


Deadline

by mssrj_335



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Romance Tropes, Car Chases, Cheese, Communication, Eventual Smut, Everyone was in a rough spot yall, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Flirting, Gritty, Gunshot Wounds, Human BB-8 (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Love at First Sight, M/M, Motorcycles, Murder Plot, Nefarious Work by Kylo Ren, POV Alternating, Plotty, Poe Dameron Can Drive Anything, Shootouts, Sign Language, Sordid Histories, Violence, a bit slow, but like not long enough for a technical slow burn, done poorly i might add, i guess you could call it, the author is on brand with that ending lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Finn, maneuvered into a spot he can't escape, wants out. But first, one last job so Ren can take what he's owed. Poe, paying on a long-outstanding debt, faces an impossible choice. Debt is a terrible thing. And when you owe to someone like Kylo Ren, you pay up. Or you die.--aka a mob-inspired au requested by youngnbloody (which somehow got way off the rails)!
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Finnpoe, Poe Dameron/Finn, Stormpilot - Relationship
Comments: 111
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [changkissx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/changkissx/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this first chapter has a lot going on. hope it's not too much  
> self-edited as always

“So how’d you two meet?”

Finn cuts his eyes to Poe sitting cross-legged next to him. A tiny smirk skirts the corner of his mouth but doesn’t quite go full frontal.

“That sounds like a loaded question, don’t you think?”

“Totally loaded,” Finn agrees.

The investigator sighs, Finn’s lost count of how many times. He loosens his tie and rakes fingers through oily hair like he’s already at the end of his rope. Poe might not smirk but Finn absolutely will. Serves him right for running them in circles anyway.

“Look, can you just give me the short of it?” the guy pleads. “I gotta have something if someone asks.”

This time, Poe looks at him. Finn raises an eyebrow. Poe shrugs. In tandem, they stare at the mirror in the tiny interrogation room. Poe smacks his lips in an absolutely obnoxious way and the investigator winces.

“‘spose we could,” he says at last. “We met, oh probably six years ago. Somewhere on the East coast, wasn’t it? Whatcha say, Finn?”

“Well—” Finn makes a face like he’s unsure, hemming and hawing in his chair. “It was five years ago. I guess in a roundabout way, we met each other at work. That about nail it?”

Poe gives him a shark’s smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The investigator groans.

* * *

_Five or six years ago_

_Somewhere on the East Coast_

Finn passes through the smoky bar, not even bothering to stop on his way to the back. They know who he is, he doesn’t need to do anything flashy to prove it. The bouncer, tonight it’s FN-2198, opens the door just before he gets there. Not for the first time, Finn’s glad of the numbered anonymity. Gives them an extra protection if they’re ever caught. He’d have a hell of a time keeping up with all the names anyway. He’s always been more of a numbers guy. Though apparently no one has trouble remembering his name.

In truth, he’s not sure if that’s good or bad.

Thunder rumbles overhead. Smoke clears some through the doorway but the light gets infinitely worse. Finn wisely keeps his opinions on that to himself. He’s never exactly sure what the boss’s game is, all he knows is it’d be hard to get a shot off in the dark like this. And that’s probably the point. A server slides by, looking just a little rattled, tray empty. Which is fair. Kylo Ren has that effect on people. Even people like Finn that got into service years ago. He gives himself one shake before he squares his shoulders and muscles through the building dread to Ren’s table in the back. The boss himself is sitting back to the wall, his most trusted hands fanned around him. There’s a pause, but Ren eventually motions him over. It looks like they’re going over the books again. Not good for _someone_ out there.

So that’s what Ren wants him for.

Finn doesn’t sit.

“I have a new job for you.”

Finn just hooks his thumbs in his belt and raises his chin. Better not to say anything. Keep the boss’s temper in check. His rather reluctant right hand Hux, with a perpetual curl to his lip, waves a folder at Finn for his perusal. In it are addresses, rap sheet. Photographs. Names. Finn doesn’t bother opening it. He’ll do it later when he’s out from under Ren’s penetrating gaze. He can’t see them for the wide-brimmed hat Ren wears to hide his scar, but when Ren speaks, he’s sure where those eyes are.

“This man owes us a large amount. Make it clean.”

Finn doesn’t ask what to do with the mark. It’s implied. One more chance to fix his fuck-up. But it’s not so easy to just disappear someone, as his last job would tell. His gut still turns at it. He didn’t kill the guy, couldn’t do it, but it didn’t save him any grief in the long run. The mark’s still mouldering away at the bottom of the river anyway. Regret for that whole mess sits heavy with him, particularly in the evenings when there’s no one around but his thoughts.

Whatever. He’ll make it work. Just gotta make sure it’s clean. No part of him wants to do it but if it means freedom…maybe he can. Christ, he’s too soft for this. Not for the first time, he misses Solo. But he’s been gone a long time now and looking at Ren makes a bitter taste rise in his throat again.

This time he does ask, “Then we’re square?” because he _needs_ to know this is it.

He can just make out the nasty curve of Kylo Ren’s smile and has to force a shiver back up his spine. “‘If you finish within a week, then we’re square,’” Ren parrots, mocking. “Phasma will see you have your papers upon delivery. Should you fail, someone else will be taking two jobs.”

_Oh fuck._ Ren must _really_ want this guy dead. With that, Ren waves a dismissive hand and Finn turns flat on his heel to get out of there. He’s not running but _jesus_ does that man give him the creeps. He tucks the file folder under his arm, out of the rain that’s starting to sprinkle. Doesn’t open it again until he’s in his car and rounding the corner out of the bar lot.

A little while down the street, when he’s not gripping the wheel so hard, he shakes out the file. As it falls open, he catches sight of the first photo paper-clipped to the center of the file. _Attractive_ , Finn hums to himself. _Very_. Dark curls. A candid photo capturing a bright smile. Crow’s feet at the corners of dark eyes. _Shit_. Mistake number one. Finn tries to look past the photo to the description as he pulls to a stoplight. Just a glance and a plan’s already forming. Mechanic? Worked in one of Solo’s chop shops to start and borrowed up to owning his own chain.

Huh.

Mr. Dameron might be making clean money now. Finn can’t help wondering why he doesn’t just pay Ren what he owes. Guess it doesn’t really matter. Ren wants his money and he’ll get it one way or another. Finn swings around to one of Ren’s garages for a junker. He’ll need it to get everything in motion. In a little under an hour, someone delivers a nondescript Chevy, rusted and beaten. After another look, he stows the data in the trunk of his good car. Dameron would be working at a shop nearby. Might as well get this show going.

The old truck hisses and groans around the corner. It’s pissing rain at this point, the engine’s smoking, and every time Finn even thinks about touching the brake the thing sounds like it’s going to die. Yes, that’s the whole point of it but the downpour wasn’t something he wanted to get out in.

_Just a little farther._

The tires barely cross the tarmac before it finally bites the dust in a rattle and clatter and billow of smoke. If he weren’t here on business, he might actually be embarrassed. All the noise draws at least three mechanics from the garage. Ah. And one of them has the face he’s looking for.

Well, time to get wet.

He pats his pockets, double checks the glove box and seats to make sure someone didn’t leave a stray gun or knife there. Then he draws his coat up over his head and makes a dash for the front door. The man he’s looking for passes by the windows, presumably to come meet him in the front room. Which is all well and good until Finn’s foot decides to go sliding out from under him.

“ _Shit._ Fuck, damn it.” One hand bites the pavement, and one knee, and blood’s just starting to well up when the door bell jangles.

“Hey man, you ok?”

Wow, he even sounds a little worried. Mistake number two: Finn looks up. Oh, _wow_. Pictures did _not_ do him justice. Poe Dameron might be the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. And he’s holding his hand out to help Finn back to his feet. Well, fuck.

This job just got so much harder.

And it’s not enough that Dameron—couldn’t be just _Poe_ , that’s too dangerous—helps him to his feet and then inside. He talks to Finn in a pleasant, soft voice, asking if he’s ok. Leads him into his office to settle where it’s warm. Gives him a clean rag to wipe his wounds.

“Gimme just a bit, we’ll look it over all right?”

Finn nods. Though the parking lot slip had been completely unintentional and he ended up soaked, it worked in his favor. Dameron left Finn to fill out some paperwork and went over the Chevy himself. There’s a perfect vantage point from the office window. Watching Dameron with one eye means he can snoop a bit. It all seems mundane though. Receipts, schedules, nothing of note. Not even a locked drawer on his desk. Eventually, Dameron makes his way back inside and settles. None the wiser, pulling at a sheaf of papers. Finn sits across from him, wrapped in a coat that smells very much of what Dameron himself must smell like. A little sweat and grease, cedar-y aftershave. Altogether a combination that proves somewhat distracting. Though not as distracting as his face.

It’s something about the eyes. Finn just can’t place it.

“So it’s not good. Cylinder head has a massive crack,” Dameron interrupts his train of thought. “Couple other things besides that. It’ll be quite a fix, Mr. Jones.”

Finn tries not to grimace at the fake name. “Finn,” he offers. “Finn’s fine.”

Oops, mistake number three.

“Finn,” Dameron smiles, like he likes the name. “I’m amazed you got it here at all.”

“How long d’you think?”

Dameron winces and shakes his head at the paper stack before he looks up. “A couple weeks, at least. Have to order parts, take it all down. Honestly you might oughta just get a new truck.”

He says it with a chuckle, and it’s not something Finn was expecting, but he’s good at thinking on his feet. He’d really only need a few days but anything to delay the inevitable. Find that right moment to do his job and do it clean. Finn’s stomach clenches at the thought. He can’t really hold Dameron’s gaze anymore. He needs the time, so he’ll buy the time.

“I’d like to get it fixed. It belonged to my father, so I’d like to keep it running.”

A lie. Though he doesn’t need to affect the somber sound—the job’s already bad enough. He also doesn’t need the sinking feeling in his stomach when Dameron’s expression reflects his tone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Finn waves his hand, cutting Dameron off before he can do any more damage. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just know cost isn’t an issue and I’d appreciate skilled hands on it.”

Dameron nods and that’s that. They shake on it. Finn tries not to think about the feel of Dameron’s hand or the warmth of his skin. All he tries to do is return the coat and get the hell outta there. _Something_ about this man sticks between his ribs and it’s not the gun or knife strapped to his side. Though he doesn’t have more than a gut feeling to go on, Finn’s sure: Poe Dameron is a good man and he doesn’t deserve what’s coming to him.

“Thanks again,” he says, coat outstretched in his hand.

Dameron hesitates. “Why don’t you keep it? It’s rough out there, looks like you might need it.”

Finn stomach executes an uncomfortable flip and kicks at his lungs. “Nah that’s—that’s all right. I’m not that far up the road.”

“Ok then,” Dameron’s jaw clamps shut, like he’s biting back on some words. He gestures to his pile of papers. “I’ll give you a call when it’s ready.”

“Sure,” he manages. Maybe half a smile, which leaves Dameron looking more wrong-footed than before and it’s all Finn can do to beat feet out of there.

* * *

With some distance, it’s a little easier. Sort of. Well, it’s easier to think of Dameron as removed from himself. At first. The first few days is just background, Ren’s deadline inching closer. Studying his finances, verifying his address, learning habits, it’s all familiar work. Just with that sword dangling over the end that Finn’s been so careful to avoid thus far. Dameron actually calls him a few times, just to get his input on a part, voice soft on the line.

Then Finn’s on surveillance. Not that he needs it really but it’s a buffer. Something to put between him and his task. He glances again at the shop across the way, posted for the third day in a row. He’s careful to change his venue, sure, but each time in full view of the shop in a place he won’t be bothered. And just like every other time, nothing changes. Dameron gets to work at 7:00 AM. In three days, he’s not been more than a minute late. And he doesn’t stop anywhere on the way. Rest of the staff arrive around 7:30, so he must be doing paperwork. From 8:00 to 5:00, cars go in and out, people come to pick them up. Other vehicles roll in for the full service, gassing up and shipping out in minutes. Dameron himself leaves at 4:00.

Well, except for today. Friday is day three and there’s finally been a little variation. Finn checks his watch again then the parking lot. It’s 4:47, Dameron still hasn’t left. The staff are closing up but Finn doesn’t see the mark anywhere. He hasn’t left out the front and the back opens to an alley that exits one way: right back out on the side-street. Still in full view. So Finn’s convinced: if Dameron left, he would’ve seen him. Not for the first time, Finn wonders at Dameron’s behavior. The man obviously makes decent money. He has a nice car, a nice house though not in the nicest neighborhood. No partner or kid to spend money on. All he does is work.

And he seems to be easy to work for. His employees appear happy. No complaints lodged. Meets all union requirements. Pays well. Loyal customer base. All in all Dameron could manage his company with little more than a cursory overview. And yet here he is. In the shop every day. There’s nothing in his file that would suggest the need for it, except one thing. At the end of the month, there’s always two payments. Cash withdrawals large enough to draw Finn’s attention but not so large that it nets Dameron trouble.

_What are those for?_

It’s not important to the job but damn does he want to know. Finn checks his watch again. A little after 5:00. Finally, Dameron emerges. He locks up, pulls out of the parking lot. Finn waits a few seconds then shifts to follow, nosing into traffic. The city center gives way to urban sprawl. Off the main boulevard, into a more rundown residential area where Dameron parks in a familiar driveway. Christ, is he just going straight home? Not even a stop-off. Finn groans and shakes his head. This guy lives, eats, and breathes his job. It’s ridiculous. Still. He parks curbside up the street and settles in to wait a little longer. If Dameron stays true to form, he’ll putter around the house, make dinner, answer phone calls, maybe read or watch something. At 10:00 it’ll be lights out. It’s all heartbreakingly domestic. And a little bit lonely. Finn sits for a few hours and tries not to think about it. Then right about 7:00 an unfamiliar car rolls up and the front door opens.

_Oh what’s this?_ Finn frowns but it’s only to keep his mouth from falling open. Dameron steps back out. He’s changed clothes. Traded his company shirt and stained cargos for black boots, a more fitted pair of jeans. Black button shirt open far past his throat peeking from under a familiar leather jacket. _Jesus_. In a little moment of weakness, Finn smacks his head against the steering wheel. If he’d thought Dameron looked good before, he should’ve been more creative. Obviously he’s going somewhere. Finn shifts into drive. Dameron trades sides with whoever is driving and they’re off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's chapter length? who knows, not me

The venue Finn follows them to is not what he expected at all. It’s not far from Dameron’s but far enough. As a matter of fact, he knows this place, _The Rising Sun_. The owner, Rey, happens to be a friend of his, kind of in a situation like Dameron. Borrowed money, got a business. It’s a small thing, almost a dive bar tucked away at the end of the downtown strip. But it’s comfortable and decently priced. Of course it would be somewhere Dameron would go. He watches him get out of the car, the short driver-turned-passenger sliding out with him. Together they greet five or six others then head inside. Shit. As much as he hates it, this might be the opportunity he’s been looking for. Finn’s hands are already sweating, his stomach churning. Or maybe not. Maybe he just goes in to watch a bit more, get a feel for who might be trouble…after. He still has a couple days left. Jesus, if only Ren just wanted to scare Dameron a bit. The prospect of killing him is getting harder and harder to reckon with. That sword overhead swings closer. A reminder.

He waits a little while longer before going in. The bar’s busy but not packed. Right off, he sees Dameron and his friends around a couple pool tables, pitchers of beer and soda nearby. He can’t hear their chatter over the general din and the music but it seems like they’re just there to have a good time. There’s a couple men besides Dameron himself. Four women. Someone short and ambiguous that had picked him up. He seats himself at the bar, watching in the mirror behind the bottles.

“I suppose you’re not here to see me, are you?”

Finn glances over. Rey looks sourly at him over the glass she’s cleaning. Of course she’s working tonight. “Might be.”

She makes a face at him, clearly not impressed. “Sure. And I guess you’re just really thinking hard about those bottles huh?”

Finn rolls his eyes and catches the soda she slides his way. “I’m not here to make trouble.” He tosses his head back toward the pool tables. “You know anything about them?”

Rey narrows her eyes. “They’re regulars, leave the best tips in the house. Come every Friday.”

“You got any more than that?”

“Karé, the one next to the big guy, just got pregnant, they had a big party last week. Three of them are in some thing together, the short one’s nonverbal, fuse is even shorter than they are. All of them work for Poe. They manage his shops around town and outside the city.”

“Dameron dating any of them?” He’s not sure why he asks. Probably because an angry lover is the last thing he needs. Well, that’s the excuse anyway.

Rey shakes her head. “Doesn’t seem interested. He’s a nice guy though. It’s like every other week he gets a number he doesn’t want.”

Finn huffs a defeated laugh. “I can see why.”

Rey’s eyes narrow again and she makes a noncommittal noise. “Whatever it is you’re doing, don’t make a mess in my bar.”

Finn raises his glass. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There’s a raucous cheer from the pool tables and apparently Dameron just won. He’s smiling wide, some of his friends smacking him on the shoulders, others look forlorn. Money exchanges hands then he’s coming to the bar. Right where Finn’s seated. _Fuck, fuck fuck_ —

“Two more pitchers please, Rey!” Dameron calls, leaning on the bar in the only empty space. Which happens to be right next to Finn.

Rey glances between them. Then she smiles quick at Dameron and slips off to fill the order. Leaving Finn dangerously close to his mark with no good reason for being in the bar anyway. He starts sliding off his stool. Maybe he can just—

“Hey, I think I know you.” Dameron’s tone is teasing when he ducks his head to look a little closer. “Mr. Jones, right? Poe Dameron, from the shop.”

He holds out his hand, expectant. Well, no getting out of it now. Finn pastes a bright, surprised smile on his face and glances over. It doesn’t meet his eyes but it’s dark enough that Dameron can’t notice as he shakes his hand.

“Nice to see you.” Opposite of true but he can’t exactly play dumb. Dameron probably wouldn’t buy it. Maybe if he just keeps it short…

“Enjoying your night?”

Finn groans internally. Of course he would want to make small talk. He can feel his smile get a little strained but when he turns fully to look at Dameron it gets easier and easier to make that smile real. He’s shed his jacket, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and a few tattoos peek from the back of his forearms. A silver chain glitters at his throat. This close, he notices Dameron’s eyes look bright, his cheeks flushed. A little buzzed already but not drunk. He’s steady on his feet, tilts his head when Finn’s gaze dips past his chin, following all that skin right down to the button of his shirt.

“Uh—” Shit, Dameron’s still waiting for an answer. “Not really.”

Well, fuck. That was _not_ the answer he meant to give. Fuckin’ mouth, why can’t it just do what he wants it to do? Dameron frowns.

“You waitin’ on someone?”

“Nah.” Finn shakes his head then immediately kicks himself. That could’ve been an out. He scrambles for something believable. “I uh, just stopped in for a drink. Figured it was better than drinking alone at home.”

When all else fails, tell some of the truth. It’s easier to sell, easier to believe. And he has stopped in Rey’s bar for just that. Just not tonight. Dameron seems to be considering. When Rey drops off a couple pitchers of beer, he says,

“Why don’t you come join us then?” Finn raises his eyebrows and Dameron just looks back with that same sincerity. “Play a couple rounds?”

“Uh, no I really couldn’t—”

“Sure you can,” Dameron smirks, handing him a pitcher to hold. “You give my buddies this and they’ll really roll out the welcome wagon.”

“But you are—”

“Looking for someone else to play,” Dameron cuts in. “There’s only so many times I can beat Snap before it gets boring.” He says it so straight Finn can’t suppress a grin. “Come on, what could it hurt? Might be nice to know some new faces. Besides. You look like fun.”

A small part of Finn’s brain is absolutely screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He’s already been made, been seen by dozens of people in the bar. Any one of them could make the connection to him and to Dameron’s eventual disappearance. Then bye-bye freedom. But a bigger part of his mind is already suckered in by the teasing invitation. By the smile that quirks the side of Dameron’s mouth. The challenge. _This is such a bad idea._

“All right.”

He takes the pitcher of beer and follows.

Dameron’s friends do actually cheer again when they arrive. All of them, except the one Rey pointed out as Karé, are way more drunk than Dameron himself. Obviously it’s a crew that believes in pre-gaming. After some quick introductions, a few more lies and smiles, Dameron commandeers a pool table and tosses him a stick. About half the group gathers around to watch. Finn glances around, uneasy, but some of it melts away when Dameron smiles encouragingly. _Such a bad idea_.

“You play before?”

“A little.” Kind of a lie. “Haven’t in a while though.” Truth.

Dameron smirks at him, chalking the end of his stick in a way that makes Finn’s mouth feel a little dry. He takes a sip of his soda as Dameron asks, “Stripes or solids?”

“Whatever you don’t play.”

“Stripes then. You break?”

Never. “Go ahead.”

Finn keeps his gaze firmly on the table so he doesn’t watch the way Dameron leans to rack the game.

“What’s the wager?”

Finn frowns. “Hm?”

“We always make a bet,” Dameron smiles. “Makes it a little more fun. You game, Mr. Jones?”

“Just Finn.” There’s that spark of a challenge in Dameron’s eye again and as much as Finn knows he should back down, he’s never been good at it. “How ‘bout just a drink to start? I win, you’re buying.”

It’s a safe bet, not exactly high stakes. But for some reason, that just makes Dameron’s smile wider. Like he’s pleased Finn’s playing along.

“Deal. Bee, you keepin’ score?”

The short one—BeeBee—signs something. Finn doesn’t understand but the mechanic obviously does because he laughs and the tips of his ears turn a little red.

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath,” Dameron mutters, shaking his head.

Finn doesn’t look away in time and the picture Dameron makes bent over the pool table is more dangerous than it should be. _Shit, how’m I gonna do this?_ A snap, crack, and they’re on.

Finn takes the first game slow. It’s more about watching Dameron, getting a feel for him in the game. And surprisingly, it takes his mind off the job he’s been given. The mechanic plays it smart. He’s a genius with angles, can pop a ball like it’s nobody’s business. Making easy small talk Finn could lie through in his sleep but still managing to be charming as hell. As the game winds down, most of their watchers have moved to other tables to play or settled to drink. Still, Finn gets the feeling Dameron’s not actually playing his A-game because he’s doing the same thing: watching Finn and getting a feel. It makes him wonder if Ren gave him the whole story. Dameron wouldn’t quite qualify as a pool shark like Finn but it’s close.

“Guess you win,” Finn says as Dameron sinks the eight. “What’re you having?”

He almost hopes Dameron would ask for something harder but he says, “Schaefer,” so Finn snags a bottle from the bar. He’s about to say _thanks for the game_ or _have a good night_ or something to get out of there. But Dameron brushes his fingers when he hands over the beer and the words die. There’s a calculating look in the mechanic’s eye. As soon as Finn decides to try again, Dameron takes a drink, letting his eyes linger and track Finn from head to toe. Christ, he’s doing this shit on _purpose_. The man he’s supposed to murder is _flirting_ with him. Even worse, it’s _working_.

“Best two out of three?”

Finn swallows. “What’s the bet?”

Dameron shrugs like it’s no big thing. “How ‘bout a date?”

It’s all he can do to keep his composure. His stomach turns, heart jerks. That is a terrible idea. The worst part? Finn wants to say yes. Fuck Ren and all his promises, Dameron looks like he’d promise more. _What have I done to deserve this?_ A date. What the fuck. Dameron loses a bit of his confidence when Finn doesn’t respond.

“If you’re into that.” Dameron tilts his head. A question. “Or maybe just another beer.”

He sounds disappointed and it kicks Finn’s brain into action. “A date huh?” It just kicks it the wrong way. “Is that if I win or you do?”

Dameron’s smile is almost as dazzling as Finn’s stupidity.

“Dealer’s choice.”

_Fuck_.

“You’re on. You win, you get a date.”

A terrible, terrible idea.

Too late now.

Whatever Dameron was doing in the first game is _not_ what he does in the next. It’s like now that he has something he wants for a prize, he plays like a maniac. The second game, Finn only wins by the narrowest of margins. But the third. Oh jesus, the third game it’s no holds barred. All Dameron’s friends are gathered around again. They scream, beat the table when either of them takes a shot. Why?

“Well we can’t remember the last time Poe lost,” one of them says. Pava maybe.

They’re all wasted, promising Finn drinks, money, anything to beat Poe in the next round. The problem is this. Any info Finn thought would be useful goes out the goddamn window for two reasons. One: Dameron’s tactics are completely different and Finn can’t predict him worth a damn. Two: Dameron takes every opportunity he can to _touch him_. An elbow as he passes by, a clap on the shoulder for a particularly good shot. A squeeze with one hand as he gives Finn a beer with the other. Just on and on and any focus Finn might’ve had to beat him is completely shattered. He’s barely paying enough attention to where Dameron’s hands land. So far, he hasn’t felt any of the weapons Finn’s stashed away but it’s been close. By the end of the game, they’re both shooting for the eight and Dameron’s playing dirty.

“Corner left,” Finn murmurs, leaned over the table.

It’s an easy shot, absolutely straight on. He should be able to sink it with his eyes closed. Except as he lines up his shot, Dameron comes to stand next to him.

“You know, I think this might be the first game I’ve lost in years.”

“You haven’t lost yet.”

Dameron drops a warm hand on his lower back. “Think you can make it?”

_Don’t do it, don’t—_ Fuck, despite himself, Finn legitimately shivers at the touch. “Maybe.”

It’s the first honest answer he’s given all night. When he glances up, Dameron is smirking. He leans down to watch. The necklace swings free and for the first time, Finn catches the ring dangling on its end. The mechanic’s making a show of looking at the shot. But Finn’s onto his game.

“What do you get if you win?” Dameron asks, voice barely loud enough to hear.

“You’ll find out _if_ I win.”

He says that mostly because he has no idea. But he takes a deep breath. Looks Dameron right in the eye and makes his shot. Miracle of all miracles, despite his shaking hands and not even looking, he makes the shot. And the table erupts.

“Fuck, I can’t believe—”

“Poooooe, oh my god!”

“Shit, I’m out so much—”

“God _damn_ Dameron, where’d you find this guy?!”

BeeBee is signing like mad at Dameron, waving to catch his attention. But when Finn’s eyes finally circle back from the chaos, he finds that Dameron is only looking at him. Lips parted just slightly around a smile, knee thrown up onto the table. That stupid black shirt parted so low Finn just wants to run. Or taste the column of his neck. Right now he can’t decide.

“So you win,” Dameron says, spreading his hands like he’s not surprised. “What’s your prize?”

Finn glances around at the group. Then at his watch. Christ, they’d only played two games but it’s gone midnight. Rey will be closing up soon. There’s a little pang in his heart. He shifts so the gun on his shoulder doesn’t dig so much and as soon as he gives it his attention, everything comes crashing back. He’d actually managed to forget, however briefly, that playing pool with Poe Dameron was not just a game. That the only way this was supposed to end was messy. No matter what he does. If he doesn’t do his job, Ren will sink him to the bottom of the river faster than he can blink. He has no doubt of that. If he doesn’t do this, someone else will come to kill Dameron anyway. But if he does… If he can manage to do this terrible thing, then he’s free.

A life for a life.

He squares his shoulders.

“How about I drive you home? Everyone looks like they need a designated, how ‘bout I be yours?”

He keeps his voice as even as he can. Smiles like he’s not trying to convince himself to do it. Dameron might be a little drunk, but he’s still perceptive and doesn’t miss the tightness creeping in Finn’s body.

“All right,” he murmurs. “Let me get my coat.”

“Sure.”

Finn settles the bill with Rey at the bar and gets a sad, watchful look in return.

“You sure about this?” she asks softly.

A little harsher than he should, he bites out, “I know what I’m doin’.”

And he does. Christ he does and he hates it. But Rey snorts at him like he has no idea. Then Dameron’s at his side, waving goodbye to his friends, giving Finn that same sincere smile.

“You ready?”

_No._ “Yeah. I’m parked up the corner.”

They walk to the car in silence. When they slip in, Dameron smiles at him again, sits comfortably sprawled in the passenger seat, his jacket between them.

“You’ll wanna head back down 1st,” he says as Finn pulls away.

Right. He’s not supposed to know how to get to Dameron’s house. He follows the mechanic’s soft directions, determined not to say anything more than he has to. He can’t. If he opens his mouth, who knows what will come spilling out. The problem is he can’t help himself. Poe Dameron has a way about him that circumvents every safeguard Finn has ever had. And in no time flat no less. He’s charming. Genuine. But there’s still a question burning at him. The one he asked when all this started. Dameron has the money to pay what Ren wants. How did it get to this point? He just…he needs to know. Maybe it’ll make it easier. Maybe it’s something sleazy and salacious and will tarnish that pretty varnish Finn’s been getting to know.

“So,” he starts against his wishes. “You seem pretty married to your work.”

Dameron laughs softly. “Figured me pretty quick didn’t you?”

Finn shrugs, turning when directed to turn. “I was talking to Rey at the bar. She’s a friend of mine. Says that you work more than you sleep.”

It’s not quite the truth but it’s close enough.

“Well she’s not wrong,” Dameron says ruefully. “I just have a lot to take care of.”

Finn hums thoughtfully. “Like what?” he prompts.

“It’s kind of a long story, but I’ve been working on this shop for a long time. My mom and dad owned the first one, long time ago. Sort of a family business, you know? But they hit hard times and lost it.” This is _not_ what he needed at all. Finn’s stomach clenches as Dameron goes on. “I finally found a way to buy it back, get it off the ground into a company I could be proud of. Something that would make _them_ proud. And I guess the short of it is I owe some people some money and I gotta make sure I pay it back.”

Finn doesn’t say anything and Dameron sighs. “Besides, I got another little project goin’ that really needs my attention.”

Strangled, Finn asks, “Oh?”

“I don’t know if you knew him, but I worked for Han Solo for a while. He gets a bad rep but he was really trying to do some good. After I got the shop settled and everything started to grow, I had enough money to pay it back. His wife suggested the project. We were working together on a new community center for my neighborhood. I grew up there, I know how rough it can be. Trying to get a fresh start is hard and we—I wanted that for them. Now it’s just me. Still tryin’ to make it all happen.”

He says the last in a deprecating sort of way. Like it’s not the most amazing thing Finn’s ever heard. He pulls into Dameron’s driveway, still in a stunned silence.

This is the man he’s supposed to kill?

Dameron looks over at him from across the bench seat. “Look, I had a nice time tonight. I…” He hesitates, just for a second. “I was serious about a date. If you’re interested.”

How? How can Finn possibly hurt him? There’s no way.

“We could just do coffee.”

Maybe he should’ve been faster on the draw. Maybe trying to do this job without any information would’ve been better. It would’ve been the opposite of clean but then Finn wouldn’t have had to see this. Dameron’s commitment. His good heart. Those big pretty eyes still waiting for an answer.

“I’d love that, actually.”

Just like that, all Finn’s resolve—and his future—goes down the drain. That’s the second truthful thing he’s said all night and it lights Poe’s face up like the Fourth of July.

“How ‘bout Sunday then?” Poe asks. “I’ll probably be a grouch tomorrow and I’ve got some things to take care of but—”

“Sunday sounds great. Dinner. Six? The Birdcage downtown?”

It’s one place he knows Ren doesn’t own and might be safe. Finn smiles at him; it’s the realest one he’s felt in a week. It pays off, because Poe grins back. Reaches across the bench seat and squeezes his hand before he slides out with a soft, “It’s a date.”

Finn watches until Poe gets to his front door. He turns, offers a shy little wave before going in and Finn lets out a huge breath. All his muscles collapse in on each other. If he had any doubts before, they’re gone now. He’s nearly home before he glances down in the seat, sees Poe’s jacket lying there. That familiar cedar scent still in the air. One thing is crystal clear: he can’t kill Poe Dameron. He won’t. And he won’t let anyone else kill him either.

He doesn’t know how, but he’s going to save that man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot of the boys here just plot lol sorry

Waking up with cotton mouth is a hell of a thing. That said, it’s not the worst way he’s woken up. But once he starts thinking, everything goes downhill. The alarm is blaring on the bedside table and Poe groans, rolling over and smacking at it. An alarm this early on a Saturday should be criminal. He could definitely come up with better. He burrows back into the pillows. Better in this case would’ve been with Finn. Definitely. Poe had hoped when Finn offered to take him home that might turn into a take-me-home of a different variety. He wasn’t exactly subtle at the bar and while Poe’s the first to admit he’s not the one-night-stand kind of guy, for Finn he’d make a hell of a big exception. The man is gorgeous. Waltzed himself into Poe’s shop in a way that piqued his interest right off. When he appeared at the bar, Poe took an eyeful, no doubt. He moved—damn—with an easy sort of grace, sure of himself and his body and his surroundings in a way Poe’s never seen. But so dichotomous. As soon as Poe tried to strike up a conversation, he got tongue-tied. Almost like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world, or didn’t know what to do with himself, even though he was very obviously interested in what Poe had to offer. If their pool game was anything to go by, Poe figured they had the same thing in mind. But the spark he’d felt during the game fizzled once it was just them in the car. Didn’t matter what signals he put out, Finn wasn’t biting. Then he asked about the job. Poe figured the whole thing was shot. Only, surprise of all surprises, Finn actually said yes to a date. And Poe can’t help wondering at that.

He sighs, scrubbing his face in the blankets before hoisting himself out of bed. It doesn’t matter what confusing, sticky, _interesting_ feelings Finn makes him feel, there’s business to do today. So Poe runs through his morning routine, swallows an aspirin and a few bites of fried egg. Chooses some of his dressier clothes. Usually he’d be happy of the opportunity to get a little dolled up—sometimes it’s just nice to feel nice. But today his clothes feel more like a straight-jacket. He eyes his pistol, hanging in its holster on the back of the closet door. Does he need it? No. Does he want it for that extra layer, that old familiar protection? Yes. But he decides against it, swims into a nicer sweater. Poking around a bit informs him his leather jacket is missing. Can’t remember where he put it so he snags a different one, squirming a bit to get it all to lay right. It’s the most comfortable combo he has. He knows exactly the reason they fit like shit today.

Kylo Ren.

_Bastard_. Since he took over Solo’s business, he’s been nothing but a thorn in Poe’s side. Poe appreciated the way Han had run things. He was fair. A little shady but mostly harmless. Not like working for any of the family bosses to the south. Working for Solo wasn’t a dead-end; he liked to see his people succeed. It meant he could come calling for a better favor later. As much as Poe hated to be in debt to anyone at all, Solo was easy to work with. And he’d given Poe his start, so really he should thank him, god rest his soul. Ren, on the other hand, was capricious. That was the best word Poe could think to describe him. Temperamental. More than anything, angry and power-hungry. Ren was set on bringing in the sort of business Solo would’ve stamped out in an instant. A mess of shit that would only mean trouble for everyone. And doing all this shit means he needs money. So where does he turn?

To Solo’s outstanding debtors.

Of which, Poe is one. So yeah, he knows exactly what this little meeting today is for. Ren is going to demand payment again, and Poe’s going to have to drag out all his finances and agreements and paperwork to say—again—he’s paying on time, he’s following Solo’s deal, and he has it in writing not even Leia Organa could legalese her way out of because she wrote the fucking thing. As Poe climbs into his car and heads to BeeBee’s place, he can’t help wishing he _did_ have the funds to just pay up and get out. That’s the end goal. Freedom. To run his business without that debt hanging over his head. Take care of the people and the place he loves. He’s nearly there. The end is just in sight. But right now, there’s no way he could do it. If he hadn’t started on the center, maybe _maybe_ he could swing it. He can’t bring himself to regret it though.

BeeBee is sitting out front when he pulls up, wild orange curls pulled and greased tight off their dark skin in their most professional look. They even threw on a suit jacket, though they played it down with some heavy boots and dark pants.

“Well, at least one of us looks good.”

BeeBee only flips him off and slides in, buckling up and arranging their paperwork in their lap.

“Ha,” Poe chides as he backs into the street. “Don’t think I deserve that.”

Bee levels him a look that clearly says _Wanna bet, stupid?_ and Poe just grins.

“Thanks for comin’ with. I always need my wingman.”

_Wing-person_ , BeeBee signs out, letter by letter, then punches him lightly just to make their point. An easy silence falls in the car until Poe pulls up to a stoplight. Then BeeBee smacks him again, signs, _How’d last night go?_ waggling their eyebrows salaciously.

Poe sighs and Bee deflates a bit in the corner of his eye.

“It didn’t go far, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says as he pulls away. “Got a date though. Dinner tomorrow.”

BeeBee cocks their head, obviously curious. Poe fills in the blanks.

“I don’t know, he just seemed a little shy, I guess. Before you can even accuse me of going too fast, all I did was talk about work. Again.” BeeBee makes a show of smacking themself in the forehead. “It’s not _my_ fault! He asked!”

Bee signs something else but the light turns green and it’s hard to hold a conversation when he can’t really see what they’re saying. He sighs again.

“Look, it’s nothing serious. He’s a pretty customer, maybe I should’ve just left it at that.”

Poe doesn’t have to be facing them to see how hard BeeBee rolls their eyes but thankfully they let it drop. Poe’s trying to get his mind out of bed and into business and that’s harder than it should be when Finn keeps crooking a finger for him to crawl back under the metaphorical covers. Unfortunately, mentally preparing for this deal is dragging down his mood more and more. By the time Poe pulls up curbside at Ren’s business front, his temper is positively stormy. God knows what actually goes on in there now but the signage still reads _Falcon Freighters_. He supposes it still runs Solo’s old shipping routes. Maybe a few new stops for the more dangerous products. He doesn’t want to go through this again. Doesn’t want to get out of the car and wade through it all. Kylo Ren doesn’t scare him. But, he’s tired.

“You got everything we need, right?”

BeeBee nods in a long-suffering kind of way.

“‘Course you do.”

Of course they do. Bee’s been his wing-person for every endeavor, every project and penny. And for an accountant, BeeBee knows how to throw down dirty. All that creativity and detail-thinking doesn’t just pay off in cash, Poe’s seen that firsthand. Really, there’s no one else he’d rather have in his corner.

Might as well get this over with. Poe slides out one side, BeeBee the other, and the door jangles as they push inside.

A sour-faced receptionist greets them, nose turned up like he smells something rotten. At least they don’t have to wait; Sour-Face takes them to the back office right off. And seated at an ostentatious desk, head bent over some papers, is the man himself. Kylo Ren. And the ever-present Hux. The receptionist doesn’t announce them and Ren doesn’t acknowledge them. Just sits and pours over his documents like he has all the time in the world. And maybe he does but Poe’s got a Saturday left to spend and Ren has played this game before.

“I brought you the books, as requested.” Poe doesn’t waste any time getting right down to it. He’s not going to play, not today. “And the contract, which has not changed since the last time you asked.”

Ren sneers at him, disgust plain. The scar on his face twists with the expression. Some part of Poe is too pleased to see him rankled so he goes a step further and takes a seat without it being offered. Hux barely stifles a roll of his eyes. Damn all those little pleasantries, respect is out the window. He motions for BeeBee to take the other chair and he doesn’t miss the little smirk his friend throws him.

“At least have something useful,” Ren says. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to scrape together what you owe me in the last six months.”

Poe flips open BeeBee’s recordbook and points to the top, to the last entry Ren has demanded to see. “You let me know what you find,” is all he says, crossing his arms and leaning back.

Two can play the waiting game.

Ren glowers at him over the books and it’s worth the hot water he might land himself in just to see that face. With a jerk of his head, Ren motions for Hux to start. Poe actually does roll his eyes and a little flush creeps up Ren’s neck. Of course he wouldn’t look himself. God, the names Poe has for him. Self-important, inflated, pompous—

“This sum, at the end of the month—” Hux tries.

“Is exactly the same as it was before,” Poe cuts in. “You have all the details for that project.”

“Have you started on that?” Ren tilts his head. “Do we have evidence you are making the progress you claim to be?”

The tone of his voice creeps up Poe’s spine like a fever. “Do you mean, am I actually spending the money on what I say I am? Yes. We broke ground a few weeks ago. All the expense reports are included.”

“And how’s that been going for you?”

Ren kicks back in his chair some, more at ease than he was just seconds ago. Poe narrows his eyes. Oh, this doesn’t feel good.

“Fine,” he bites out.

Not quite the truth. There’s been delays. Problems with permits, zoning. Equipment stolen even. A sinking feeling starts somewhere around his throat and slides.

“I imagine you want that progress to continue as scheduled,” Ren says.

Ok, that’s not even a veiled threat. Poe’s spine ratchets straight and he jerks. “Of course.”

Ren smiles, and that sinking feeling thuds right in Poe’s gut. Silence sits in the room just as heavy. Hux goes through every page, every entry written out in BeeBee’s careful script. Ages and ages, Hux pours over it until _finally_ he looks at Ren and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Poe looks between them, gesturing vaguely.

“What’s that? What’s that mean? You two got some secret little code you wanna let me in on?”

Ren sighs, sits forward and steeples his hands together. “It means, Mr. Dameron, that despite your business with my father, and your coffee dates with my _mother_ ,” he spits, “your protection is up. Your books may be clean, but you _will_ give me what you owe me if you want your little community project to be more than a pile of ashes.”

Wow, maybe he shouldn’t have played. Poe clenches his fists on his thighs, half to keep his composure and half to keep from strangling that smug, stupid face. “I don’t. Have. The money,” he enunciates. “Your man just weaselled all the way through my finances _again_ to prove it and if you think—”

“If _you_ think, that running to my mother about litigation and legal bullshit about contracts will make your building burn any slower, then by all means, be my guest. And if you’re naive enough to think that’s the end, then my parents were bigger fools than I ever could’ve dreamed for bringing you in.”

Poe blinks. Stunned. Floored, actually. He glances at BeeBee just to make sure they heard the same thing too. Judging by their face, they did. Well, shit. Poe’s mind is already running a mile a minute, grasping for something, _anything_ , that could change this course. When he looks up, Ren is smiling. Like really smiling. Each tooth looks like a nail in his coffin. Christ, he’s serious. And why wouldn’t he be? Doesn’t matter what Poe might say in court, Ren’s smart enough to do it all clean and that ‘accident’ would never be traced back to him. Not without some serious digging. Like so many others Poe tries so hard not to think about. He’s got Bee as a witness, but that’s not going to get him very far.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, voice very low. He stares at the open books, because he can’t bring himself to look at Ren and that horrible promise.

“You can get the money. Sell anything and everything. Steal. End up right back where you started.” A pause. Ren reaches into a side drawer and pulls out a photograph. “Or you trade this man’s life.”

Poe flinches and Ren throws the photo at him. It lands face-up. For a full second, Poe stares at it.

“No.”

He jumps to his feet.

“No way.”

He gathers his books, slams them shut. The photo flutters to the floor.

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” he hisses. “What kinda man offers that to someone?”

He all but tosses his books at BeeBee, throws a finger down in Ren’s smug face. Who’s only growing smugger by the second.

“Fuck this,” he spits. “And _fuck you_.”

There’s so much else he could say but that’s it. That’s all he can get out because he’s starting to see red and it’s time to fucking go. So he turns on his heel and does just that. He doesn’t wait for Bee to follow; they will. He’s to the door, a foot in the street, when Ren finally yells from the back office,

“It’s your choice, Dameron! You’ve got 48 hours!”

Then the door jars closed. But Poe can still hear Ren laugh through the glass.

He flops into his car and lets the door slam. Grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles start to turn white. For a few seconds all he does is wring the wheel, maybe subconsciously thinking about Ren’s neck instead. When BeeBee slides gingerly in he finally pushes out a deep breath. Smacks his head against the headrest a few times before his hands drop just as heavy into his lap. Man, if he thought he was tired before…

“What’m I gonna do, Bee?” he asks, though he doesn’t really expect an answer. “How am I gonna take care of this in two days?”

He sees BeeBee vaguely sign something about police but they know just as well as he does that the locals are all pretty much in Ren’s pocket. Might be one or two that would help him but it’ll take more than one or two to get the ball rolling. And he doesn’t have any evidence besides. Then Bee signs something about a pipe bomb and it actually makes him laugh. A little at least. But it does get him thinking. He throws the car into gear just to get out of there and get his body caught up with his brain. How, really, is he going to do this? Maybe put the car and house out on the market, they might sell. Could he sleep at the shop until he gets his feet back? Yeah, probably. He might could get an actual loan this time, he’s respectable enough these days. Provided they don’t look too hard. First thing on today’s to-do list. There’s probably a bank still open somewhere. He’s still thinking but BeeBee’s signing something else at the next stoplight and he doesn’t quite catch it.

“What?”

_Why does Asshole have a picture of your boyfriend?_

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Poe groans, scrubbing his face with two hands. “But that’s an excellent question.”

BeeBee looks at him seriously then, lays a firm hand on his shoulder and pulls him to face them all the way. Brow hard, hands tight, they say, _We’re going to figure this out, ok?_

All he can do is nod. Bee’s right, they’ll have to figure this out. The rest of the ride passes in silence. He doesn’t even turn on the radio like he normally would. All he would hear anyway is the hum of the tires and Ren’s words. Forty-eight hours. He drops BeeBee at their apartment with promises to update them on what he finds. They’ve got that look in their eye that says they’ll be doing some digging of their own but Poe’s suddenly too tired to ask what they’ve got planned. Something’s niggling at him though, he can’t quite put his finger on it but,

“Hey Bee,” he calls from the car. When they’re back within earshot, leaning toward his window, he says, “Look, I know you still got some feelers out. See what Ren wants with Finn, would ya?”

If there’s a death tag attached to it, Finn probably needs to know. So BeeBee nods and promises to come by when they find something. At home, he digs around for some paperwork, makes a few calls to find the nearest open bank. He has to do _something_ , might as well try legal avenues first. Look where back doors landed him. But there has to be something. Because the only other options are shit: let all he’s worked for burn to the ground, or kill Finn. And there’s no way either of those are happening if he can help it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday morning breaks absolutely bleak. About like his mood, if he’s being honest. It’s cold. It’s raining. It’s exhausting already and he’s not even out of bed yet.

_Fuck_. Poe sighs, stuffing his head back into the pillows. If everything keeps going like it is, hiding in the pillows is going to become a bad habit. It’s not like it does anything. Actually, if everything keeps going like it is, he’s not even going to have pillows to stuff his head under.

“Fuuuck,” he says aloud this time, though only the walls are around to sympathize.

After yesterday, he never wants to get out of bed again. Just fucking let the repo men haul him off in it, he’s too tired to care. Every bank he tried was a dead end. Every. Single. One. For one reason or another, they all said no. So he still doesn’t have the money and it’s coming up on twenty-four hours to Ren’s deadline. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Ren would make good on his threat either. Poe even thought to hire some extra security around the build site but chances are just as good that Ren might be able to buy them too and burn it all down anyway. He hasn’t had the heart to tell any of his crew, though he doesn’t doubt either that Snap and the others will want to know. It affects them too. What’s worse, even though his mind is already running with this, it’s Sunday. Any business he might need is shut down. Maybe he can make calls though. See about some less savory contacts that might be able to patch this widening rift before he falls all the way in.

He flops over, glances at the clock. 10:16. Finn. Friday night comes creeping back into his brain and he finds himself wishing he could just go back in time. See Finn’s smile and not have this new problem burning a hole in his lap. Part of him still wants to go on the date. Needs the distraction. And the answer to the question he left with BeeBee: What does Ren want with Finn?

Poe pulls himself out of his blankets, faces the clock. A choice.

“All right,” he grunts, and that’s that.

There’s too many things he wants to avoid right now, so he’s not going to avoid any of them. He’s always been more of a head-on kind of guy. Why stop now? Even if it’s only the illusion of forward motion, it’s _something_. So he picks up the phone.

He spends the rest of the day calling up anyone he can think of that might be able to help. Triesfor hours, actually. He hears from an old friend Zorii there might be a way to get cash for his car, which is helpful but not enough. The local shark Grakkus also calls back and says, “Yeah sure we could sell your house in a day,” but Poe suspects there’s something else in that bargain so he back-burners that for a while. He only stops long enough to scarf an apple for lunch before he loses all track of time. Ages later, he jerks at a sound.

Someone’s banging on the door.

Poe frowns, glances at the clock. 5:45. _Shit_. Wasn’t dinner at 6:00? Now he _really_ frowns, because he’s going to be late. Fuck, how did he lose such track of time? The banging continues and he sighs.

“All right, all right!” Huh. It’s BeeBee. Practically hopping. “Bee? What’re you doin’, don’t you have a key?”

They sign something at him but it’s too fast, shaking a bit and he can’t catch it. He doesn’t have to wait though. As soon as he unlocks the door, BeeBee bursts in pushing him back and out of the way to throw the door closed again and deadbolt it.

“BeeBee, what the hell’re you doing?”

They don’t answer right off. Just grab his hand and drag him back into the kitchen. Then they shove him into a chair and start yelling.

Well, yelling for Bee means signing so fast Poe gets a little dizzy. _Finn—date—bad._

“Finn date bad? What? You fry your brain on all those numbers? Bee, slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

They glare at him, manic, and sign the whole thing over again but somehow it’s even worse.

“For god’s sake, slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter!”

Their hands are actually shaking, he just can’t tell if it’s because they’re angry or scared. Maybe both. Their face isn’t giving him a goddamn clue. So he watches very carefully. And they indulge him by signing as simply as they possibly can:

_F-i-n-n work R-e-n._

Oh.

Well that’s pretty fucking clear.

“Finn works for Ren?”

BeeBee nods viciously and Poe’s heart drops. They sign a bit more clearly now that the message is across and they’ve calmed a little.

_Yes, that fucker works for Ren_.

“What do you mean ‘works for him’? You could say I work for him, you’ve gotta be more specific.”

Is he saying that because he desperately doesn’t want to hear that Finn’s in with Ren? Maybe.

_Dumbass, he’s ________.

Poe frowns at the sign. “What’s that?” He’s never seen it before and he gestures it back vaguely. “What’s that mean?”

Oo, bad question. BeeBee practically vibrates on the spot, looking like they’re going to absolutely strangle him. Their hands are tiny but Poe doesn’t think that would really put a damper on it. Bee takes a deep deep breath and drags a hand down their face while the other spells out,

_E-n-f-o-r-c-e-r_.

If Poe’s heart was in free fall before, it absolutely splatters over the metaphorical ground with that word.

“Enforcer?”

BeeBee nods again, slumping at last into a chair. For a while, they just sit in silence. His brain’s still trying to wrap around it. It’s the last thing he wanted to hear.

Maybe— “Where’d you hear that? Don’t be makin’ shit up just because you don’t like him Bee, please.”

They just shake their head. _C had details_.

Poe doesn’t have to ask. Doesn’t want to ask. C—meaning the head of Leia’s informant group, known only as C-3PO—always has good info. And if they have details on Finn, that means he really _is_ working for Ren. And Poe’s had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing some of Ren’s enforcers at work. They’re vicious. Brutal. The thought of Finn doing that kind of work makes his stomach turn.

He sighs, scrubs a hand over his jaw. “What’d you find out?”

_He used to work for Solo, that’s what C said. Running some of his freighters, doing odd jobs. When Ren took over, looks like he got promoted._

“You think he’s got anything to do with the stuff at the center?”

BeeBee spreads their hands and shrugs, expressively saying _I have no idea_ without signing a word. A blank, empty sort of feeling takes up residence in Poe’s chest and his mind starts running a mile a minute. Did Finn come by the shop with a purpose? Did he agree to the date with ulterior motives? Is his last name even Jones? Christ, was there anything he said that was true?

_You can’t go on the date_.

Poe scoffs. “Yeah, no shit.”

_Promise you’ll stay here._

“Ok.”

_Don’t do anything stupid_.

“Ok!”

BeeBee gets to their feet, cuffs him on the back of the head in a way that’s as much affectionate as it is a reprimand.

_I’m going back to C’s place. They might be able to find more about him. I couldn’t wait to tell you. I knew you were supposed to see him._

Their hands falter for a second and Poe stands.

B _e careful, idiot._

“I will,” he promises. Before they can turn, he squeezes them into a hug and says, “Thanks for lookin’ out for me.”

Bee tilts their head and smiles, as if to say _Always_ and Poe follows them to the door. Their car tears out of the drive, Poe locks up. Well, what to do now?

Suddenly, he feels very alone.

The clock on the mantle reads 6:30. _Definitely missed that date_ , he thinks bitterly. Maybe more bitter than he should be. Figures. The one guy that caught his eye in ages—of course it ends up going south. Every one had since…Muran.

“Fuck,” he says, very emphatically and very much to himself.

He pours himself a drink, meanders to the living room and turns on the TV. Some spooky movie’s on but it’s really just for background noise. Try to drown out all his thoughts. It’s not like he really _knew_ Finn, but it still feels like a betrayal. He _wanted_ to know Finn—he’d been so nice, if a little shy. Now that he thinks back on it, was that actually shyness? Was Finn watching him with a hungry look because he felt that same spark? Or was it because he saw an opportunity? A paycheck?

Poe takes a long drink, enjoying the heat that slithers under the cold spot growing in his chest. He thinks back through all the little chit chat, looking for some sign that he should’ve seen. It really wasn’t that clear. Everything around Finn is hazy. He’d never really given many details, had he? Never his history, or his purpose. What’s his game?

Ah. The game. Maybe the pool game should’ve been a clue. Who else would be as good at pool except someone who’s shared Poe’s experience? He remembers working the tables on weekends, trying to scrape together enough money to eat for the week. He wonders if Finn had to do the same. As much as he hates it, it sparks a little sympathy in his heart. Maybe this is all just a big misunderstanding? Poe laughs at himself and takes another drink.

Wishful thinking.

So he tries to stop. He stares at the TV while the movie plays and the zombies crawl. It’s not really very distracting but it’s enough. After a little while, he makes it to the bottom of his drink and it finally feels late enough to warrant crawling into the shower. Maybe wash off the day and sleep, get his mind back on Monday. He still has his project to save and if he’s going to do that, he’s going to need his brain actually working and not hung up on handsome, duplicitous men.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

Poe groans, leaving his glass on the side table.

“Bee, whatever it is, can’t it wait?” he calls, reaching for the knob and pulling open the door.

He blinks.

That’s not BeeBee.

“Uh, h-hi.”

“Finn?”

By all rights, he should slam the door right in Finn’s face. And _boy_ is he tempted. But Finn’s also standing there, every inch of him presentable. Hell, more than presentable—gorgeous. Dressed up for a date with a chagrinned look on his face, like he can’t believe he ended up at this doorstep either. In his hands, not a weapon or anything nefarious, but—

“That’s my jacket.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, maybe a hair too quick. “You left it. On Friday.” He holds it out, looking away at some point on the ground. “And when you didn’t…come for dinner, I thought you’d probably want it back.”

“Why didn’t you just call? I could’ve picked it up,” Poe frowns and snatches it. Finn winces and a part of Poe feels bad.

Finn shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I didn’t have your number. And I guess…” A pause. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

A perfectly valid excuse but it still sets Poe on edge. Did he really? Is it a front? Awkward silence wobbles between them, Finn wobbling with it. He leans forward as if he might ask a question. Then back like he’s changed his mind. His dark eyes flit up to Poe’s but whatever expression he’s wearing must not look inviting. Poe’s heart cracks a bit more. With hands tucked away and his shoulders hunched, Finn looks so…young. Such a far cry from every image of Kylo Ren’s enforcers. He doesn’t look like he’s going to kill anyone, he looks lost. His eyes dart around the place like he’s not sure if he’d rather run or stay.

“So.” Finn clears his throat. “Glad you’re ok. I’ll see ya then.”

He does a quick about-face, dark skin and white shirt gleaming in the streetlight. But Poe doesn’t miss the look before he does. It’s disappointment. Like…like he’d been looking forward to seeing Poe again.

“Wait!”

God, maybe he’s a masochist but he can’t just let him go. Poe knows, he _knows,_ he shouldn’t judge alone. But he can’t shake this feeling that C-3PO’s wrong. They don’t know Finn, not really. And Poe’s going to get to the facts. Right now.

“Why don’t you come in?” he sighs. “It’s been a rough couple days. Just lost track of time.”

Finn’s face lights up, smile bright as his shirt but cautious. “You sure?”

That makes Poe smile back a little. Is it confirmation bias? Maybe. But just that he asked helps. Poe steps back from the door to let him inside and, oh. Isn’t that interesting? Standing still, Poe could find no sign of what Finn is supposed to be. But then he moves, and Poe sees it. Finn slips inside, slides past him with an easy grace. The man’s eyes track every corner of the room. His shoulders tighten as Poe locks the door behind him. What he might’ve seen as shyness, maybe nervousness before, morphs into a kind of alertness. Shown in the clench of Finn’s fingers around a weapon that isn’t there. The way he doesn’t ever quite let Poe completely behind him.

“Drink?” he asks from the door, grabbing his empty cup from the side table.

“Sure.”

Finn smiles at him and Poe tries not to squint. It looks like a real smile. Maybe the first real one Poe’s seen. It lacks some of the tight lines he’d seen at the bar. Finn follows him into the kitchen, making the center of his back tingle.

“Whiskey?”

“That’s fine.”

Poe hands Finn the drink, watching the younger man over the rim of the glass for a moment. Finn takes a sip. Time seems to stretch, there’s a current in Poe’s kitchen now, but not enough to dampen Finn’s apparent curiosity.

“You said bad news,” he says gently. So gentle it makes Poe ache. “Nothing too bad I hope?”

Poe drinks, licking an errant drop from the corner of his mouth. Finn’s gaze sinks there.

“I wouldn’t say that. Terrible news, actually.”

Finn frowns, leaning into his space. Not much, but just enough for Poe to notice. “Are you ok?” His eyes track Poe from head to toe and it’s almost like Poe can feel them. “Did someone hurt you?”

_What a question_. Poe’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Finn asks that, knowing what he does.

“Found out some bad news about my project. Finances. About someone I thought was a friend.” He narrows his eyes as Finn’s widen.

“Yeah?”

Poe nods. “You ever heard of Kylo Ren?”

Finn barely moves, just a tightening of his hand around the glass, but it’s enough. “Might have. Hear he’s a bad dude.”

“A bastard,” Poe corrects.

That makes Finn smile, relax some. “Right. Can’t argue that.”

“So you do know him?”

A line in Finn’s jaw jumps. “I do.”

Poe steps a little closer, reaching for the bottle behind him. Just for the hell of it, he trails a hand over the small of Finn’s back as he passes. Feels dangerous, like touching a live wire. The little shiver he gets seems worth it.

“How d’you know him?” The bottle thunks hollowly.

“I…work for him.”

Poe blinks. Honestly, he hadn’t expected an admission. But Finn looks heartbreakingly earnest, and Poe’s bursting at the seams to ask. So he does.

“Doing what?”

Finn hesitates, drains his glass in one go as his eyes go flinty. “I don’t think you want to ask that.”

Poe hums, bites the inside of his lip. That’s as much an admission as anything else. But he wants more.

He wants the truth.

“Refill?”

Finn doesn’t hand him the cup.

And Poe can’t take it. He’s got just enough nerve left to test Finn for real. His own glass clunks as Poe sets it on the table, before he closes the distance to Finn. Watches those dark eyes follow him with a keen gaze. And now that he suspects, now that he knows what Finn does... It’s all he can see in the younger man’s face.

“You know that sounds bad, right?” he murmurs. “Makes it like you’re in bad business.”

He reaches out, hooks a finger in the front pocket of Finn’s jeans. He feels more than hears Finn take a sharp breath. Does it sound dangerous? Or inviting?

“Maybe I am,” he admits, voice breaking a little at the end. “I don’t want to be.”

“What would you do to get out?”

Maybe it’s not a fair question. Finn hesitates again, looking anywhere but Poe’s face.

“Would you hurt someone?”

Finn’s eyes turn sharp and skin him.

“Be honest.” It’s a challenge if he’s ever said one.

“If I had to.”

Poe looks at Finn’s chin, his lips. “Kill?”

Finn gingerly traces Poe’s jaw, like he’s not sure he’s welcome. _Is he?_ Like he’s afraid to break him. _Would he?_ “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

There’s more to that. Poe knows it. Words unspoken and feelings stinging and crackling like live wires around them. Maybe he’s an idiot, like Bee said. Maybe he likes danger a bit more than is healthy. But the way Finn’s eyes flash when Poe brushes their fingers together, takes the empty glass from him and sets it on the table—

Poe surges forward, lips crashing together and just like how the whiskey burned on the way down, Poe feels this burn all over. It’s easy to steer Finn’s hips back and into the wall. Even easier to swallow down the groan he gets. Simple to open his mouth when Finn’s tongue begs at the seam. Finn’s hands circle around his back. Pull Poe flush with such force his knees go a little jelly. So Poe kisses harder. Bites. Fits his forearm over Finn’s chest and holds him in place when he scrapes his teeth over the swell of Finn’s bottom lip. Finn may be the dangerous one here, but Poe’s determined to stay in control. He pulls back, just a hair. Finn’s eyes are still closed, he’s panting softly. And Poe feels close to breaking.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” he murmurs.

At that, Finn's eyes snap open. “The truth about what?”

“Don’t play,” Poe warns. “Tell. Me. The truth.” Finn looks at him meekly. Terrified. “Why did you come to my shop?”

Finn lets out a deep breath. His head hits the wall with a soft thud.

“Poe, please—”

Poe leans in, letting the weight of his body press in warning. He wouldn’t hurt Finn—shit, he probably wouldn’t be able to—but it serves as reminder enough. Finn squeezes his eyes shut for just a second, shakes his head the tiniest bit. But when he looks back at Poe, it’s the most open Poe’s ever seen him.

“All right, look,” he tries. “I was supposed to—”

Glass shatters, a gun slide racks behind him.

And the kitchen splinters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many thanks to thecarrot for the kiss bit here!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of a long one but i couldn't bring myself to break it up  
> there's a shitton going on tho, maybe i should've lol  
> anyway angst

“Get down!”

Before Poe can fully react, Finn drags him to the floor. It’s loud, christ it’s so _loud_ and the kitchen walls are suddenly riddled with bullets. Dishes shatter and crash. Finn's tucked him protectively under his shoulder.

"We gotta go!"

_Yeah, no shit_. But Poe doesn't have the breath to say it. Finn takes his hand. Pulls him to a crouch. His bare feet slide on spilled whiskey, Finn's shoes squeak, they slip through the door. The gunfire stops. Finn swears, throws Poe's jacket at him and says,

"Hold that up!"

Then his arm's wrenching. Finn yanks him out the front door, to the car. Dash across the lawn. Gunfire erupts from behind. A bullet whips dangerously close, _thwapping_ through the leather of his jacket but not him. Finn shoves him in the driver side and clambers in after him just as two men round the corner of his house and open fire.

"Finn, what the _fuck_ is going on?"

"Head down!"

Finn leans sideways into him, shoving Poe's face into the seat, in an instant using the same hand to throw the car into reverse. Bullets spiderweb the windshield. Shatter it. Glass rains on the dash and into Poe's hair as he squirms to the passenger side of the bench seat. Finn tears across the lawn, bouncing them over the mailbox and out into the street. Metal screeches, crumples, jostles Poe so hard he ends up face-first in the floorboards. He barely registers a squeal of tires then Finn swears.

"Are they following us?" he shouts.

Poe scrambles upright, peeks up over the seat and out the back.

"Yes."

Finn throws them around a corner then two. The bottom scrapes and they're onto the main boulevard. Poe slides right into him, bullets pepper the trunk.

"Fuck yes."

"Shit."

"Yeah shit! Jesus Finn, what the hell’s going on?" He looks again and one car has turned into— "Three! There's fucking three of them!"

"We gotta lose 'em!" Finn jerks the wheel, dodges around traffic but not without side-swiping the nearest car and losing a mirror. "Look under the back seat! Get the gun!"

"Of course you have a gun," Poe spits, throwing himself over the seat into the floorboards. "Why wouldn't you have a gun?"

"I don't think this is really the time for that tone."

More gunfire—Finn swerves left, right—Poe falls forward and nearly busts his face on the door.

"I think this is the perfect time for the tone!” Poe scrambles under the seat and comes up with a couple pistols, a few full magazines, all tucked in a surplus ammo box. “You show up at my door and these guys show up with you!"

He leaves one gun in the seat and shoves a mag into another, trying to keep his balance with Finn's erratic goddamn driving.

"I was trying to make sure you were all right. They were going to come after you with or without me. Come on!" He reaches back, fists a hand in Poe's shirt to keep him steady. "Can you shoot?"

"Not with the way you're driving!"

Finn punctuates his point by running a red light, swerving around incoming traffic into the next lane. Not fast enough to miss getting clipped and the only thing keeping Poe from flying ass over ears is Finn's hand.

"Jesus, do you want me to shoot at them or not?!"

"Yes!"

He tries to line up a shot, everything's too wild. Bullets ping off the metal. Finn executes another poor dodge; Poe decides—

"All right, that's it!" He flails into the front seat, dragging the ammo box and guns. As soon as he's stable, he slaps at Finn's arm. "Move it. I'm driving."

Finn glances at him with the most ridiculous look. " _What_?"

"Move! You wanna lose 'em? You gimme the wheel."

"Look, just—"

"Nope!"

Poe doesn't even wait for him to agree. Instead, he shoves himself into Finn's lap, trying very hard to ignore the way Finn's arm automatically wraps around his middle to keep him steady. He shoulders his way between Finn and the door, hands on the wheel, Finn's feet on the pedals.

"Go. Go!"

Finn grunts, rolls to the side, just quick enough for Poe to get his foot on the gas and keep their lead.

"Get out on the bypass," Finn says, checking the magazine and the slide.

"You worry about shooting, hotshot," Poe throws back. "Let me worry about driving."

This is what he does best.

Stoplight coming up. Bypass's back the other way. Ok then.

Poe stomps the brake, two feet, pulls the e-handle and swings. Tires screech but in one smooth move, he rounds the median. Gas, and they're flying back the other way into oncoming headlights. Before he can stop him, Finn's rolling down the window and sitting on the door.

"What the hell are you _doing_?!"

Finn hooks a leg between the door and the seat, holding to that oh-shit bar with one hand; when Poe hears gunfire, he's got his answer.

"Fuckin' maniac," he swears to himself.

Guess this is what Finn does best. He leans out, fires twice. A loud _pop_ and the car behind them swerves right over the median. Damn what a shot. Poe looks back and—

Oh shit, oh _shit_ —

"Hold on!"

Poe grabs Finn's ankle, swerves onto the exit ramp. The wrong way. Whatever. No problem. Finn's got a good enough grip on the car that he stays in place and when Poe gets on the straightaway, he floors it.

Finn's car isn't exactly a speedster, but it's got enough oomph in the V-8 to get out ahead of the remaining two. Speedometer pushes sixty, seventy. His eyes water with the windshield gone but it's clear enough he can see. Traffic's lighter here, easier to dodge. Finn fires, Poe glances in the rearview to see one windshield crack. Someone's shooting back, Finn shouts, fires again, lower, and a bullet pings off the grill. Poe frowns. Is he not shooting for the driver? There's a slap of rubber on pavement, another tire pops.

Huh. Apparently not.

One left.

"One left!" Finn shouts as he pulls himself back inside.

Perfect. Poe glances at him as he reloads, red on his shirt—shit, is he hit?—then looks in the rearview. An exit flies by and—

"Great. Fucking _great_."

Telltale blue and red lights pop up over the ramp and suddenly one in pursuit becomes five. Four cop cars pile out of exits ahead and behind, apparently having received the message. Up ahead, flashing SUVs divert traffic. Spike strip, no doubt. Ok, can't go forward. Poe glances at the signs in the mirror. What's coming up? There has to be an out. Which one? The slide clicks and Finn gets ready to scramble back out the window.

"Hold on!"

A plan's forming.

"No breaks huh?" Finn growls. "Fuck, what now?"

Exit signs flash red in the dark. Deane Avenue. Benning. One further back, Capitol, RFK Stadium.

_That’s it!_

"Hands on the dash!"

Finn doesn’t hesitate, Poe stomps the brake. The whole car groans as he throws it sideways, rounds out, and before Finn can finish shouting he's flooring it. Headed right back at their pursuers.

It'll work. It always works.

"Poe!" It would sound like a warning except for the way Finn's voice shakes. "I don't really wanna die today!" 

Poe tightens his grip on the wheel, stares down three cars rapidly approaching. A second, Finn's firing again out the busted windshield, blood trailing down his elbow. One shot, two, three— The center car wobbles, Ren's people. Finn's hit it; it won't keep straight and jerks out to the left. Exit coming up quick. A thousand feet. Half that. They're close enough Poe can almost see the cop driving right at them. It's chicken, a game of chicken.

"Poooe!"

The cop jerks to their right, Poe to his, right into the exit ramp. He barely catches the weight of Finn's car, screeching parallel to the cruiser, close enough Poe sees the cops’ slack-jawed expressions. Then they're careening down the ramp, u-turn into traffic. Down the street out of sight and crashing into a stadium parking garage.

The car groans into a space. He kills it. For a moment, they sit. Softly panting. Engine hissing. A little glass tinkles off the ruined windshield onto the dash.

"Goddamn," Finn swears. He looks over, absolutely incredulous. Maybe a little starry-eyed. "God _damn_."

Poe huffs, gives him a lop-sided grin. "Ride's not over yet, sweetheart."

Christ, no time to be flirting but he can’t help himself. Finn grins back. Then they're back in action, already on the same brainwave. Poe jogs over to the nearest car in the garage, a nice nondescript family affair. He feels a little bad about it but not bad enough. Finn busts the driver-side window and by the time he gets in the passenger seat Poe's already wired it. The engine coughs to life. And easy as you please, they slide out into the street, cop cars passing by. Poe practically holds his breath until they’re blocks and blocks away.

When he finally breathes, he asks, ”So what do we do now?"

"Get back on the freeway," Finn says gently. "Head east, I've got a place we can stay down by the river."

Poe doesn't say anything to that. His throat feels strangely tight now that the adrenaline's dying down. It's late. He's exhausted. Easier to just follow directions for now. Finn leads him out of the city proper into orange, decrepit suburbia. Rundown houses line the streets, bungalows that've seen better days glint back at him with empty eyes. Much like the people, he imagines. Working class, run ragged. Finn directs him into a drive, unlocks and pulls up a garage door for him. Silently, he gets out and follows Finn inside. Surprisingly enough, there's electricity. And when Finn flips on a light, Poe hisses.

"Damn, what is _that_?"

He stops Finn with a gentle hand on his shoulder, turns him to the light.

"It's not a big deal," Finn protests at first.

"Like hell it's not, _jesus_."

In the light of the laundry room, Poe sees the damage he missed. Finn's white shirt is absolutely wrecked. Bloody red blooms at the upper arm, staining and sticking, spreading over his chest and down his side. Damn, dripping on the linoleum even. Splattering in the tight space.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Finn tries to pull himself out of Poe grasp.

Poe can't let him go. "Let me help."

"I got it." Finn pulls a little harder.

"Don't be such an ass, let me help."

Finn frowns at that and actually jerks out of Poe's hand. "Why would you wanna help me anyway? Look at all the trouble that's got you."

"Yeah well..."

He's suddenly, acutely aware that their conversation isn't finished yet. What had Finn been ready to say?

"Look, just--" Finn looks pained, and it’s more than just his arm. "Don't do me any favors. You'll regret it."

With that, he turns and strides out of the laundry room, taking all the air with him. For a second, Poe's just flabbergasted. Then he gets his breath back and he's angry.

"Just what the hell does that mean?" he calls, following Finn with a purpose.

"Exactly what it sounds like." Finn drops his gun on the kitchen table like a warning, digging under the sink for something. A first aid kit. "Don't play dumb, Poe. You're too smart for that."

Poe swallows around a hard lump when Finn strips his bloody shirt. Then he starts stripping weapons Poe didn’t even know were there, like he’s trying to make a point. A knife from his pocket. Another from around his ankle. A snub-nose pistol tucked into his boot. Ok. Maybe Poe gets the message. But he still wants the truth. His eyes land on the skin of Finn's upper arm, torn and oozing still. Christ, how had he managed to keep shooting after that? He wants to ask.

"You don't know the first thing about me," he says instead. "I could be a giant dumbass for all you know."

Finn scoffs, then winces when it jostles his shoulder. Looks like the hurt's finally setting in. Poe doesn't know where anything is but when Finn fishes out a bowl, he snatches it out of his hands and fills it.

"Goddamn it Poe--"

"Look, here's how this is gonna go," Poe snaps, dropping the bowl on the table too hard. Some water sloshes out. "I'm gonna clean you up and you're gonna tell me what the hell all this is. I don't want to play connect the dots, I want the truth. And since you went to all the trouble of saving my ass, I figure you must want me around huh?"

Finn just looks back at him at that, expression unreadable. A long moment stretches until he says, “Fine."

A pause. Poe waits. When Finn slides sitting onto the table and doesn’t say anything more, he dips a dishcloth in the warm water and starts low. Wiping away the blood with a tenderness he hopes won’t betray him. Suddenly, he’s not sure how to start. Not sure that he wants to.

“How ‘bout this?” he says at length. “What’s your name?”

“My name _is_ Finn, I didn’t lie about that.”

“Last name?”

Finn purses his lips. “[Galfridian](https://dorksideoftheforce.com/2017/10/27/the-last-jedi-finn-home-planet/).”

“Now I know that’s a lie,” he snorts, rinsing the rag out. “You should’ve stuck with Jones.”

“It _is_ my name!” Finn protests. “I’m tryin’ to be honest here!”

Poe chances a glance and Finn’s looking right at him. Very earnestly. Damn him. Wow, it is _incredibly_ easy to believe those eyes.

“All right,” he grouses. “Galfridian. Guess I know why you give out a fake one. It’d be easy to find you with a name like that.”

Finn just hums, lifting his arm when Poe pulls to swipe at the blood on his side. It thankfully comes away sticky but no damage there.

“So how’d you end up working for Kylo Ren?” he asks tentatively. Finn stiffens a little in his grip; he smoothes over it with, “I mean look at you. Smart. Good-lookin’. Seems like you could’ve gotten work somewhere easy.”

Finn huffs, looking up at the ceiling as if it would somehow have the answer. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “One thing just led to another.”

“What? There’s gotta be more to it than that.”

Finn shifts, body flexing distractingly under Poe’s hands. “There’s really not. I used to work for Solo, same as you. My parents died when I was six.” Poe’s heart breaks a little at the tone in his voice. “Went to an orphanage until I aged out. Some of his guys picked me up tryin’ to hustle pool in one of his bars. Instead of getting me in trouble, he gave me a job. Saw I was good with numbers, I guess. I helped plan for his shipping business. Pulled up the routes, calculated gas allowances. He kept an eye on me. Taught me to shoot, use a knife the right way. Hell, he taught me to shave. Nothing illegal. He—” Finn stops. Clears his throat. “Probably the closest thing to a father I ever had. Ren reassigned me. Just small things at first. Go here, pick this up. Deliver this news. Then it was _get_ this money, whatever you have to do. Bring someone in. Remind so and so who they owe.”

It’s a sob story if he’s ever heard it. Part of Poe wants so badly to believe him but he can’t let his guard down just yet. Finn’s already lied to him once. Who’s to say he won’t do it now? On top of that, the defeated tone in Finn’s voice rankles him in a way he hadn’t expected. As if he’s already resigned to his fate.

“So you go from counting gas to counting bodies?” he prods.

Finn glares. “I never killed anyone.”

“But you hurt people. For Ren.”

He winces. “I tried not to. When I could, I just scared them. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t—didn’t have a choice? Finn, you _always_ have a choice.”

Finn’s eyes go hard. Poe’s stomach drops but he stands firm.

“Well it didn’t look like much of one from where I was standing,” he spits. “You don’t know Ren like I do. You don’t know his people. How he works. He’s not afraid to kill anyone. He’s put plenty of people in the ground, and I didn’t want to be one.”

He snatches the cloth out of Poe’s hands and strides toward the back of the house. But Poe’s not done. He follows.

“Why didn’t you ask someone for help? Quit when Solo died?” he throws at Finn’s retreating back.

“How could I have known how it was gonna go?” Finn bangs into the bathroom and starts filling the sink. His shoulder’s mostly stopped bleeding but his hands shake as he wrings the cloth out. “It was just me. The only friend I had was Rey who was in the same spot. Who was I supposed to ask? I quit that job, I would’ve lost everything.”

Finn is very determined not to look at him, staring at his wound in the mirror instead.

“You might anyway,” Poe mutters.

Finn scoffs. His teeth clench; he still refuses to look.

“Why were those men chasing us?”

“Ren wants you dead. I thought we established that.”

“Yeah but _why_? I owe him money, but not that much.”

Finn shakes his head, wiping the last of the blood away. “It’s not the money you owe. It’s the money you’ll earn.”

Poe frowns. “What?”

“C’mon Poe, think about it. Who would take over your company? Anyone you leave in charge if you die could get bought or killed until Ren owns all your stake. I’ve seen your finances. You make a pretty penny at the end of the month. You’re just a generous bastard and give it all away. Think of what Ren could do with that kind of money. If he didn’t pay your people as well. If he didn’t pay for that community center you worked so hard for.”

Poe’s stomach drops. The center. Shit, the whole thing’s going up in flames in just hours and he’s stuck. Here. With this smartass. Realization dawns on him, burning.

“You’ve known all this since the beginning, haven’t you?”

“No.” Finn turns to him finally. “But I guessed as much.”

He’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. Poe swallows hard. “How can you be so sure?”

“I know how Ren works,” he says.

And it’s the hopeless tone that sends Poe over the edge into anger.

“That’s how Ren works huh?” He has to know… “What were you doing in my shop, Finn?” he asks, dangerously low.

Finn’s shoulders slump. “Poe, don’t make me say it.”

“ _What._ Were you doing in my shop.”

Finn grimaces. Lifts his chin, a little spark of resistance still there. “I was supposed to kill you.”

Poe’s world comes to a screeching halt at the admission. Christ, he’d hoped, _god,_ he’d hoped it wouldn’t be true. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. _How did you let it get this far_ is what he wants to scream. Instead, he asks,

“You still gonna do it?”

“No.” Finn looks absolutely heartbroken. Reaches toward him like he can hardly help himself but Poe takes an involuntary step back and Finn drops his hand. “No, of course not.”

“When’d you decide that?”

“The night I took you home,” Finn says softly. “After spending time with you. I should’ve never said yes to that fuckin’ job. I don’t want to hurt people, and I don’t want to hurt you. When you told me about your project. I…I knew I couldn’t. You were so…good, I couldn’t let you get hurt. I wanted to know you. I wanted you to stay around. I’m sorry.”

That moment, Poe wants to turn on his heel and storm out of this god-forsaken house. He wants to take that stupid sedan and just drive until he hits city limits and not look back. He wants to leave, part of him never wants to see Finn or his sad dark eyes ever again. Even if the thought has his heart thumping hard in his throat. It’s not the thought that Finn set out to kill him that makes him sick. It’s hearing his own thoughts echoed back at him. The fact that Poe doesn’t _want_ to leave. He sees so much of his own story in Finn. Part of him wants to throw Finn in the car and take him somewhere safe. What hurts the most is the fact that he’s already forgiving him. _That_ makes him absolutely livid. _Damn him_.

Finn must see the indecision on his face. “Told you you’d regret it.”

“Yeah?” Finn’s mournful gaze cuts deep. Poe’s heart rolls, but a bitter vulnerability plucks at him, pulls up his walls. “Maybe so. You didn’t bring me here to make it quick and clean? Collect your money and go?”

Finn’s face shifts from hurt to anger. “That’s what you think this is? Do you have _any_ idea what I gave up to get you safe?”

Poe spreads his hands. “Couldn’t have been much. A few thousand maybe? Am I worth even that much? Whatever it was must’ve been easy for you to let go.”

Finn’s stare turns to ice and Poe immediately regrets his words. He opens his mouth, apology already spilling out but in a flash, Finn’s in his face. Good arm thrown over Poe’s chest, pushing his back against the cool tile in the tiny bathroom space. Poe swallows, throat bobbing against Finn’s forearm.

“One job, and I was done. Out. I gave it up. I gave up freedom,” Finn hisses, dangerously close. “ _That’s_ what you were worth, Dameron.”

He melts away. Temper back under control but eyes just as cold. He pulls Poe off the wall, gives him a little shove out the door.

“You wanna go, then go. You don’t _have_ to stay here. Hell, you helped me learn my lesson, thanks for that. People aren’t as good as you think they’ll be.” Poe winces. “So do what you want. I had a deadline. I’ll miss it. I just hope Ren won’t look too hard because as soon as he finds me, it’s lights out.”

Finn’s words hurt. Christ, do they hurt. He wants to apologize, promise he won’t let that happen. He shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have pushed. But all he can see is red welling up on Finn’s shoulder and all he can get out is,

“You’re bleeding again.”

Finn doesn’t even look. Just keeps that hard stare right on him. “Get out.”

Poe opens his mouth.

“Out.”

So he goes.

His teeth clack shut and he retreats into the nearest room. Which is a bedroom. He slams the door, on accident actually, and it kicks up a breeze that makes him realize _oh_ , it's Finn’s room. Lonely and barren and it smells just like him. And there in the dark and the familiar, heartbreaking smell, Poe comes to grips with what Finn actually said.

Kylo Ren wants him dead. All his work, up in flames. Finn traded his own freedom for him on little more than faith. And he's just thrown it back in his face.

Fuck, how’s he going to fix this?

* * *

The bedroom door slams and Finn takes a ragged breath, trying to get a hold on himself. It stretches the bloody edges on his arm. The sting of it makes him drop his head, just for a second. Fuck. _Fuck_. He hadn't meant to say that, not to push Poe away. But that's what happened, wasn't it? Hurt for hurt, like his fucking life. He's so tired. Poe took all the energy in the room with him and Finn can barely hold himself up. But he looks at his arm in the mirror, sees the blood Poe so graciously pointed out and grimaces. That's it? That's all Poe had to say?

God, Finn not sure if he wants to punch him or run. He takes another calming breath. Poe’s angry. Of course he's angry. But not so much to tell him to fuck off. Not enough to leave. He frowns. The accusation, the look on Poe’s face hurt. More than Finn would've ever thought. It aches in his heart, blooming questions. Finn hadn't wanted to fight. Furthest from it. He was just glad they made it out. But Poe wanted honesty, that's what he got. And he didn't seem to like what he found. Finn feels raw with it. He wipes at the blood in the mirror and absently wonders what Poe sees. If he would be enough.

Then he shakes that thought right out.

When he slips back into the kitchen for the first aid kit, the bedroom door's still closed. It's a little awkward to bandage his arm himself. Part of him still wishes they were in his kitchen, Poe's hands gently cleaning him up. A more dangerous part wishes they were in _Poe's_ kitchen. Sharing a drink. Another kiss. It burns in Finn's blood. He wrenches a knot in the gauze for the distracting hurt and when all’s said and done, it’s enough to push it from his mind.

There’s not another bedroom and Poe still hasn’t come out. Finn sighs. Then he grabs the gun from the table and takes up a spot on the couch. There’s no other blanket, no shirt or even a jacket. He hasn’t had money to buy much and any bedding he might have is in the bedroom anyway. The weight in his limbs pulls him down into the cushions. He leaves the pistol on the floor beside him and settles in. His arm hurts, heart hurts more. With one eye, he tentatively watches the door. Not sure what he’s hoping for exactly, until sleep finally comes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would it work this way in real life?  
> does it in this fanfiction? heeeeells yeah lolol

Something crashes.

Finn jerks awake. Heart racing, gun in his hand— _Ren, found, dead—_

Then he hears, “Easy big guy,” in a familiar voice and his muscles relax before he really registers what’s happened. Poe’s frozen in the hall, pink with the cold and wearing Finn’s spare boots and coat. A bunch of bags in one hand and a cardboard cupholder in the other.

“Just me,” he says softly.

“Wha’s that noise?” Finn groans, rubbing his face with one hand as his brain comes online.

“Garage.” Poe shrugs, setting the cups gingerly on the coffee table. “I’m surprised you heard it at all. Didn’t hear me leave.”

Poe fiddles in the kitchen, emptying his bags, and Finn squints at his lap. A blanket that most certainly wasn’t there the night before is tangled over his legs. Poe’s jacket is there too and not around his shoulders. _Where_ —

“You looked pretty cold last night,” Poe offers. Finn looks up, more than a little confused, and Poe pulls a hand through his tangled curls. “I couldn’t find any other blankets, but I thought you could use the extra layer.”

Finn pinches the leather between his fingers, rubs at a bullet hole thoughtfully. If the jacket and the blanket are both here, then Poe must’ve slept only with the threadbare sheet left on the bed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

Poe just shrugs again and hands him a cup. The smell wafts up to his nose. Coffee. _What on earth—_

“What did you do?”

“Nothin’ much. Just went for some groceries. I would’ve made you something already but everything looked pretty empty. Got your car back. And you should’ve seen the dude workin’ the drive thru when I rolled up without a windshield.”

What the fuck was he doing, going out like that? He wants to ask but everything still feels a little off. Poe drops on the couch beside him but keeps his distance. Sips his coffee, watching. When Finn struggles to sit more solidly, he frowns.

“You look like death.”

“Thanks.” He tries to rub his eyes with both hands but his arm twinges and a hiss escapes. “ _Shit_.”

He doesn’t realize what Poe’s doing until the mechanic pries open his clenched hand and drops several aspirin there.

“Eat those, you’ll feel better.” His thumb rubs the back of Finn’s hand for an instant before he retreats back to his side of the couch. Holding his coffee with two hands like a rosary.

Finn’s too tired yet to argue, so he swallows down the pills with a mouthful of coffee. Poe, satisfied, starts in on his and they drink in silence. It’s not uncomfortable though. Not like Finn figured it would be. It feels more like a waiting room. In flux. A little apprehensive, desperate for news. He chances a glance at Poe and finds him watching. He looks good like this. In Finn’s house. Comfortable. Watching him with a soft, if cautious, eye.

_Oh_. This is an apology. Poe’s apologizing. He left. And came back. With things to cook and coffee to share. A pleasant heat blooms in Finn’s chest but he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Why’d you go back for the car?” is the first thing he thinks to ask.

Poe makes a face like it should be obvious. “So we don’t get charged with all that mess.”

Ok, fair point. And the picture of Poe in the drive thru with all those bullet holes in the car is, retrospectively, hilarious.

“They feel sorry for you and give you a discount?” he chuckles.

“Not a chance,” Poe teases. “I’m surprised they didn’t charge extra for all the damn glass I trailed. Also surprised the car hadn’t been found. Stroke of luck, we’ll call it.”

“Huh. First time I’ve ever had luck, I think.”

Poe gets a little sad at that and Finn could kick himself. Whatever this easy feeling is, he’d wanted to hang on to it for a little while longer. But Poe looks like he’s gearing up for something. Then his lips part and the air gets tight.

Oh boy.

“Look,” Poe starts. “I’m sorry for last night. I was an ass.”

“A bit.” Finn’s voice is jagged with sleep but he smiles carefully, hoping Poe knows what he means.

“Hey, I was a little justified.” Poe smiles back and some of the tension bleeds away. “But I shouldn’t have said what I did. I got to thinkin’ about your—what you did. What you said. I didn’t—I should’ve realized Ren had you in a bad spot. I know what it’s like to be in a place like that. So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It’s worth a lot.” Finn takes a drink, mostly to give himself a pause because his throat feels tight. “I’m sorry too.”

The room feels lighter. Poe’s eyes don’t look harsh and Finn’s heart fizzles at that. Hunger that has nothing to do with breakfast sneaks back into his gut, so he asks, “Where’d you learn to drive like that?” by way of distraction.

Well, he’d hoped it would be a distraction but from the look on Poe’s face he was dead wrong.

“We all have our sordid little stories, don’t we?” Poe scoffs. “I made some bad choices, same as you.”

Finn almost shoves the cup in his mouth. Maybe if there’s something there he won’t put his foot in it so easily. He’s dying to ask what the hell that means but the majority of him is still trying to hang on to that peace. So he doesn’t. But his patience is rewarded because Poe says,

“I used to run with a guy named Terex and his crew. Armed robberies. I was the driver. Only ever the driver, but it was enough to land me in hot water when I couldn’t drive smart enough. Had two things working in my favor though: I was sixteen and my pop knew a great lawyer.”

“That how you met Solo?”

“Yeah,” Poe confirms. “Leia, his wife, kept me out of the worst of it and Pop made me work in one of Solo’s chop shops with him. After the suit, my folks lost…everything. Then my mom died—” He tugs at the chain on his neck, as if it’s an old habit. “—and Pop, he…well it was a lot. That’s why I borrowed the money. To give him somethin’ back, you know?”

A band snaps around Finn’s chest. “You’re always giving back, aren’t you?”

Poe shakes his head in a deprecating kind of way. “I kinda feel like I should.” Then he sighs deep, so deep Finn feels it in his bones. “Didn’t know it would land me here though.”

“I get that,” is all Finn says. Because he does. And with the way that Poe looks at him, it seems like maybe he finally gets that too.

“He offered me a deal, you know,” Poe admits. “On how to get outta all that debt. Seems like Ren likes murder plots. Maybe he thought we’d kill each other and he could just wash his hands of it.”

Finn wants to laugh. He figured Ren wouldn’t care if he was collateral damage going after Poe but the revelation makes him wonder. Then Poe’s smile turns a little sharp. The problem with that is it’s turning inward. Like Poe’s already tearing himself to pieces. Finn reaches out before he can help himself, pulling up just short of Poe’s knee crooked as it is on the couch between them. Instead, he lets his hand rest on the cushion close enough his fingers barely brush. It’s all he can give himself right now. But those big pretty eyes land on him and he suddenly wishes he would’ve gone all the way.

When Poe didn't show for the date, Finn panicked. Drove as fast as he could to run right into a wall that hadn't been around Poe before. As soon as the mechanic opened the door, he could see it. Poe knew.

But he still let him in.

So that's something. Maybe it's enough. Finn swallows, slowly reaches for Poe’s hand where it rests on his thigh. Poe meets him the last few inches, covering Finn’s fingers with a pleasant, comfortable weight, and something loosens in his chest.

Maybe it’s enough.

“We’re both kind of stupid,” Finn murmurs. He squeezes Poe’s hand. “But we can figure a way outta this.”

Though he has no idea what that might be, he actually does believe it. Something about Poe makes him think anything is possible. He’s not sure if that’s fantastic or foolish. Maybe both.

“I had a thought about that, actually.”

Finn cocks his head.

“Leia might be able to help us. Maybe if we let her in on the situation, she could give us an out.”

Finn raises a skeptical brow. “She’s Ren’s mother. Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know that she would,” Poe shrugs helplessly. “But for being a mob lawyer, she’s got her own honor standards and an eye for loopholes. She can find us something. Maybe she doesn’t know everything Ren’s been up to since Solo went down.”

Finn turns that over, giving Poe’s hand one last squeeze before retreating thoughtfully. She’d need some kind of hard evidence. He’s not sure that she’ll go for it otherwise—he’s only met her a few times—but it’s a start.

“Let’s give it a try.”

He throws on one of his few clean shirts. Offers one to Poe and stolidly ignores the fluttery feeling he gets about Poe in his clothes. Then the mechanic calls someone not-Leia first. Several someones, actually. Finn vaguely remembers the first name from the bar. BeeBee.

The line picks up to silence and Poe says, “Now don’t get all flustered on me, Bee.”

Finn can only hear more silence but as Poe goes on, frantic tapping threads through.

“I’m gonna just guess what you’re asking here. Yes, I’m fine. No, Finn didn’t kill me. No, Finn isn’t the bad guy. I’m with him right now, everything’s mostly ok.”

The tapping gets a little more rhythmic and Poe shakes his head.

“BeeBee listen, you can tear me a new one when I see you again.” A pause. “Ah, no don’t even start with that. I _will_ see you again. But look, I need you to do something for me. I need you to keep an eye on the center and the shops. Call Snap, and Jess. Call the cops if you have to. Might not do us any good but Ren wants control of what’s ours and I need you guys to make sure that doesn’t happen, all right?”

There’s more tapping, but Poe seems to be listening intently. That must be a surprising statement because it takes some smoothing over. Finn notices that Poe, quite pointedly, does not mention his current plan. Finn shakes his head. Still giving, stubborn bastard. Still wanting to keep people safe. The next call doesn’t go to Leia either. Instead, it goes to Poe’s dad. Just to check in. _Probably just to hear his voice_ , Finn thinks. His heart clenches. That’s something he hadn’t even thought of. Would Ren go after Poe’s father, the only person he has left? To make sure all went according to plan? Apparently, Poe thinks so. But after a few minutes of evasive maneuvering, Poe seems to be satisfied.

Finally, Poe makes the call. The house is silent except for the ringing on the line. There’s a click, and the mechanic motions for him to come closer, holding the phone out for him to hear. As Finn pulls up a rickety kitchen chair, an imperious voice answers.

“Hey Leia, you havin’ a good day?”

“I was,” she says, crackling over the line. “But why do I get the feeling you’re about to ruin it?”

Finn stiffens at her tone but Poe just shakes his head with a smile. “Ah, you know me,” he says. “Always gotta ruin your day. Look, I need some advice.”

There’s silence on the line for a moment. “Is this a matter of discretion?”

Poe sighs. “You might could say that, yeah.”

There’s some rustling, things abruptly get much quieter. Then she says, “What’s going on, Poe?”

“I’m in trouble. There’s someone tryin’ to kill me. And my friend. I need to know what it would take to prove it in court.”

Immediately, she asks, “Are you in a safe place now? I can send someone for you.”

Finn’s respect for her grows some at that.

“I’m safe for now,” Poe reassures. “But I wanna be able to get outta this mess, so how do we do that?”

Leia sighs, blustery. “Well, a confession would work best.”

An idea sparks in his mind and Finn asks, “Like a recording?”

“That’s Finn,” Poe supplies, glancing at him. “My friend.”

“Well. If it’s the Finn I think it is, that means one of two things. Either you have gotten yourselves wrapped in some nonsense that I missed. Or this involves my son somehow.”

Poe pinches his eyes shut and Finn just stares at the phone.

“How’d you know that?” he asks at length.

“Process of elimination,” Leia says matter-of-factly. “Unless by some miraculous third option you met each other by chance?” She pauses but when neither of them respond, she says, “So which is it?”

Poe looks half like he’s swallowed a whole lemon so Finn speaks for him. “It’s Ren. I recognized his men. They shot up Poe’s house last night.”

Leia sucks in a sharp breath. At last, some emotion. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Poe mutters. “But they shot the shit outta Finn’s car. And shot him too, actually. I don’t know if you know what Ren’s been doing, but it’s bad, Leia.”

She sighs, in a long-suffering kind of way. “I know. This might actually be the piece I need.”

Finn exchanges a look with Poe but she goes on.

“As I said, a recording would be best. Short of that, hard evidence. Paper trail. You’d need his record books. If he’s anything like his father, there’ll be plenty to choose from. A witness wouldn’t hurt either, perhaps a former employee.”

She says the last part very pointedly and Finn doesn’t doubt it’s for him. The prospect of going to court—again—and dredging through it all makes his chest feel tight. Could he do it? Yeah. But taking the stand and dragging out his employment history is a surefire way to land his ass in jail. He has no doubt of that. Poe seems to sense his distress, leaning a knee against his in support.

“Witness is out,” Poe says firmly.

“Then the not-witness better not be in the books.”

Ah. A light in the tunnel. “I wouldn’t be.”

Poe cocks his head, confused.

“Jones.”

Poe grins and christ, Finn’s never been so happy to have used a fake name for his job.

“Ok, so if we get something to you, can you help us?” Poe pauses. “I know it’s a big thing to ask Leia, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Leia sighs again, this time distinctly sadder. “When Han ran the business, he ran it mostly clean. Never did anything I couldn’t turn an eye to. But my son…my son’s plans were never clean. If he isn’t stopped, people are going to get hurt and you two are proof of that.” There’s a somber pause. “So I’ll do what has to be done. You get me hard evidence for it.”

And with a few goodbyes, Poe cuts the call. A heavy silence settles but Finn’s gears are turning. Some kind of plan is forming, though it’s distracted. Poe starts bustling around the kitchen. He’s not sure if it’s because Poe heard his stomach growl or if it’s to dissipate his own nervous energy, but there he is. Clanging around the stove. Something smelling warm and delicious fills the house and Finn pulls out a seat at the kitchen island. Wordlessly, Poe plates for him. Fixes him a glass of water. All of it heartbreakingly domestic. For an instant, Finn just wants to say, _Let’s leave, you and me, go somewhere far and safe and just stay that way_.

But that’s not fair, is it? Poe has a life here, even if he doesn’t. As Poe leans against cabinets and picks at his food, Finn makes the leap and that pretty much completes his plan. It might be the worst thing he’s ever thought of. But as he looks at Poe again, shoulders hanging low and heavy, it bolsters his resolve.

“I got somethin’,” he says gently, “but you might not like it.”

Poe makes a face, apprehensive as hell.

“Don’t tell me that.”

Finn makes a face right back. “I’ve got a tape recorder. Today’s my deadline for Ren. I was…supposed to have killed you by now, but he gave me a week. So here’s what I’m thinkin’. I can put the tape on. Go in and see Ren. If I can get him to talk about the deal, then we’ve got it made.”

_And you stay safe_ , he adds silently.

“Did you conveniently forget Ren wants you dead too? Plus then _you’re_ on tape, admitting you took a hit job.” Poe shoves his plate away.

Finn comes around the island to drop his plate in the sink. “Look, Ren wants me dead significantly less than you. It’s not like you could go in there alone either.” Poe crosses his arms and Finn pauses. He’s not trying to be combative, it’s just, “I don’t see any better option for a recording, do you?”

“We don’t _have_ to have the tape. Leia said we could just get the books.”

“Yeah, but if we have him saying it, it’s airtight. And we’re done.”

Poe hands clench under his arms, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Finn sighs and takes a step closer. Poe’s worrying at his bottom lip and Finn’s struck with mad desire to kiss him, just to distract him. But who knows if that would work? Or be welcome. Instead, he grasps Poe’s elbow, pulling his arms open and apart to loosen some of the apprehension that’s so obvious there.

“I’m smarter than I look,” Finn reassures. “I can talk my way around if I need to.”

“You look pretty smart already,” Poe throws back. “But you said it yourself: Ren has no problem killing anyone. What happens if you go in there and he just shoots you? What then?”

Finn shrugs. “I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to take. There’s enough at stake here.” 

And isn’t that the truth. His life. And Poe’s. His livelihood and probably the lives of many others. That’s more than enough reason to do it. Doesn’t Poe believe him? Surely, he figured at this point—

“No. No way. You’re not going alone. We’re in this together, you get me?”

Poe’s searching his face with those big pretty eyes; it makes him feel warm all over.

“Poe—”

“Maybe somehow we could do both.” Poe leans in closer, as if that would get his point across. “Maybe we can get the recording and the books.”

He can’t help it; Finn glances from Poe’s eyes to his mouth and back. “Yeah? How you figure?”

“It’s like the heists Terex used to pull. Someone goes in the front, someone in the back. You pull a little sleight of hand and they’ll never know you were there.”

“A diversion you mean?”

“Don't get me wrong, I’d rather some miraculous fuckin’ thing fall outta the sky and save us but here’s the deal. If we do this together, at the same time, we might get something. But if only one of us goes and fails, then Ren’s on high alert and we won’t get another chance.”

Finn nods though he hates the idea. “Ok, so I go in to talk to Ren. You find the books.”

“His office isn’t that big, surely they’d be there. Don’t stay too long, cause a ruckus when you leave, and I can slip in.”

Finn takes a deep breath, looking for clarity. “You sure you can get in?”

Poe grins. “You know the best thing about a daytime heist? Doors aren’t locked. And even if they are, driving wasn’t the only thing I was good at. I’ll find a way in.” Abruptly he frowns. “But how do we get there? Your car is fucked, there’s no way they won’t make a connection.”

Finn smiles wanly. “I might have something.”

Out to the garage, in a dusty corner beside the ruins of his car, Finn flips up a dustcover. Beneath, the one luxury he’d allowed.

“Wow…” Poe breathes.

His motorcycle sits just as he left it. Sleek, black, ready for freedom.

“Think you could drive it?”

“I can drive anything,” Poe grins. “Where’d you get this?”

“I bought it before the house. Thought I’d leave for a while. When—when I could.”

A small part of him thinks he might not ever get to but he’s determined to keep that voice quiet. Poe seems to hear it anyway. He turns to him with an expression Finn can’t quite read. 

“You will.” It sounds like a promise; he wants to ask how he knows. “You’ll see.”

But Poe steals the words right out of his mouth. Tentatively, he reaches up. Through air sinking in his lungs like molasses, Finn watches Poe’s hand reach for his cheek. When it settles there, warm and comforting, his lips part, an involuntary sigh. Poe’s thumb gently traces his cheek, like he’s not sure he’s welcome. _Is he?_ Like he’s afraid to break him. _Would he?_

“Just to prove it to you,” Poe says, _sotto voce_ , “I’m gonna leave something very important with you.”

Finn can barely find his voice. “Yeah?”

Poe nods, suddenly just inches away. “Yeah.” Finn blinks. When did he get that close? “Think you can hang on to it for me?”

Poe watches from under his lashes. Dark eyes bruised, tired in the dim light. But steadfast. Pulling him in, waiting for an answer.

“Ok.”

Inches evaporate, and Poe kisses him. Paralyzes him. But he doesn’t break. Then Poe’s other hand finds its place at the back of his neck and Finn’s arms wrap around his waist like they’ve always known how to rest there. It’s so _different_ , so unlike before. A slow, syrupy slip of Poe’s tongue sliding against his and rattling every cell. His gasp setting fire to Finn’s lungs. Until Poe melts away, eyes still closed. Lashes long on his cheek. Oh—

_Wow_.

“Wow,” Poe murmurs, and it makes him laugh.

“That’s a big cheesy somethin’ to leave me with considering what we’re about to do.”

He almost expects Poe to pull back, roll his eyes and move on. But instead his arms circle around Finn’s neck and he steps flush, chest to chest. And that’s almost more surprising than a kiss. Hesitantly, Finn hugs him back. Feels Poe’s heart pound against his. Clings to the back of Poe’s shirt— _his_ shirt—and holds him as he sighs.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Poe says, lips brushing his ear. “I want to know you. I want you to stay around.” Finn squeezes a little tighter hearing those words echoed back at him. “I want to see what a future looks like with you in it.”

God, he wants that. Wants all of that and whatever else he can get. He squeezes Poe one more time. Lets him go.

“Guess we better be careful then.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babes i am SO EXCITED to share this chapter with you. i think it's a lot of fun, hope you enjoy!
> 
> music note (if you like that): there is so much vivaldi winter playing in my head at this chapter you don't even know <__>

They plan. After that, there’s no reason to delay. Everything’s in motion, the impetus of action carrying them forward. Poe’s driving. He’ll drop Finn at a corner, circle to the back of the shipping depot and make his way inside. Finn’ll go in first. He’s not sure yet exactly what he’ll say, but he’ll figure it out. He tucks the recorder in his pocket after making sure it still works. Truth be told, he’s not exactly sure why he has that either. He vaguely remembers Han giving it to him. To keep notes as he worked, maybe. That seems about right anyway. Han gave him so many things, took care of him like his own. It’s hard to say how much of what he has was a gift and it makes his heart ache so much he has to shake himself out of it. He takes his gun. Passes Poe the spare out of the car and a pocket knife, who takes them with some amount of chagrin.

“Keep the jacket. Cover your mosquito bite there,” Poe says as he tucks the pistol in his pants. Then his expression softens a bit. “It suits you anyway.”

That makes Finn’s heart stutter a bit. He has a coat, he could wear that coat, but Poe takes it from him without a word. Shrugs into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Pulls on a backpack. Christ, if this is what he’s like now, Finn can’t wait to find out what he’s like later. A little voice wonders if he’ll get to find out and he stamps it down. He will.

They _will_.

With everything locked up, he straddles the bike, just enough room for Poe on the back. Together, they head out of the neighborhood. Icy autumn wind bites at him through the bullet holes in Poe’s jacket. Hopefully not an omen. The mechanic’s arms wrap around his waist, knees tucked against his thighs. Finn just tries to gather his focus. It’s a little hard when his heart thrums so hard he’s sure Poe can feel it, but he tries. So he weaves through traffic, solid and sure. It’s not a long drive but the hum of the engine helps center him. Hopefully Poe can do the same. He has no idea where Poe would’ve learned to ride. Makes a note, adds it to the list of things to ask Poe when they’re away from here. Preferably curled up in bed, set not to leave for days and days. There’s been a lot of stupid shit he’s done; this has to be the stupidest. But before he can get too far into his head, they’re already there. He pulls up to a meter, and they trade places. They’re still a few blocks from _Falcon Freighters_ and Ren’s home office. Far enough that they’re more likely to get lost in the lunchtime throng than anything else.

“How long should I give you?”

Poe licks his lip. “I figure it’ll take you ten minutes to get there. Less time for me. Let’s say—shit, I don’t have a watch. _Shit,_ neither do you.”

“You good to count thirty minutes?”

“I can guess as best I can,” Poe shrugs.

“Just keep an ear out, I’ll make some noise. Meet around the back, entry gate.”

Finn zips up his jacket—Poe’s jacket—as the mechanic swallows hard.

“This is totally nuts,” Poe mutters. “This is no plan at all.”

That doesn’t help his own apprehension even a little but Finn reaches out and squeezes Poe’s arm. “A little late for second thoughts now, isn’t it?”

Poe shoves a hand through his hair. “You’re right. You’re right. Just…be careful.”

Finn steps back to the bike, gripping Poe’s coat with one hand and kissing him hard and quick. “For luck.” He grins helplessly, shrugs. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had it. Maybe it’ll keep up huh?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and steps onto the sidewalk. Poe’s lips thin but he nods once, firm, and guns it. Tears off down the street.

Well. Here goes nothing.

* * *

It’s only a couple blocks to Ren’s office. The tape recorder sits heavy in one pocket, burning a damn hole through it almost. His pistol’s in the other. Fuck, all of his body is freezing except his damn hands. Those are sweating so much he’s afraid the fucking thing won’t work when he needs it. He rounds the corner.

_Falcon Freighters_.

Big glass doors, big windows. Open to the world. Transparent. And such a fucking lie. He takes one more breath to steady himself, then flings the door open and barges in.

“Ren!”

The receptionist startles, looks like he’s choking on sour milk. Just a sour-faced son of a bitch in general. TK-241. Or whoever he is. Another number locked in his head. He stumbles to his feet, spitting and blustering, and Finn blows right past him.

“Ren!”

He knows where the office is. It takes no effort to toss TK-421 out of the way and bust through the door.

And there he is. The bastard. Sitting smug at his desk like he’s been expecting him, a sneer permanently pulling at his scar.

“Welcome back, FN-2187.” Finn’s skin crawls at his tone. “You seem…irate.”

—

Poe parks Finn’s bike just out of sight. Still close enough to make a run for it though. Then he creeps up the back of the depot. There’s a chain link fence. No guards except at the entry gate but plenty of workers meandering about their jobs. Taking inventory. Driving lifts, moving boxes and crates. The loading bay’s empty though. That’s the best way in. He glances up. No wire. He groans to himself. Shit, it’s been so long.

“Fuck.”

Should’ve brought wire cutters. Poe sneaks around the perimeter to a spot that’s mostly out of sight. No one would be looking that way for anything much really, so he backs up. Takes a running start, jumps. Grabs at the top and hauls an ankle over. The fence rattles like hell but it doesn’t fall over and there’s a forklift somewhere covering most of the sound, thank god. He lands easy enough, dashes for cover behind some shipping containers. The forklift trundles on by. The worker doesn’t seem to be too focused on anything except the task at hand. As he passes, Poe darts out, right, towards the loading bay. Head down, running stooped, he tries the outer door.

Unlocked.

He lets out a soft anxious breath. The bustle outside dies down as he eases the door closed. The bay is big and empty and open. No damn place to hide, that’s for sure. But the interior door’s only a few meters away. He stays tight to the wall. Tries the handle.

Locked.

Fuck.

—

Finn makes a show of shoving his hands in his pockets, marches right up to Ren’s gigantic desk but stays standing. He feels the recorder click, surely inaudible but it cranks his nerves higher.

“What’s the big deal?” he starts in. Just right to it. No sense in playing around. If he’s here and he’s mad enough to barge in, he better make it fucking good. “You got some extra plans you wanna share with the class, man?”

“There’s always extra plans at play, 2187. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Why’d you go after Dameron?” he spits, and that vitriol is very real. “You didn’t think it would be handled?”

Ren leans back in his chair, not a care in the world. “No, frankly. I didn’t think it would be _handled._ As you so elegantly put it.”

Finn opens his mouth to argue but Ren cuts in, “You couldn’t take care of the _last_ one, I thought you might need a little…help.”

Fuck. Finn winces. Well that’s him on tape for attempted murder. “I don’t need your help. I wanna get out of this fair and square,” he growls. And how in the _fuck_ am I supposed to do that if you pull the rug right out from under me?”

An honest question, something he’s been wondering anyway. Ren raises an eyebrow. Dangerously slow.

“Is that what you thought was going to happen?”

Uh oh.

—

Poe jiggles the handle again. Ok. Locked. But not deadbolted. Fuck yes, no problem. Just a delay. He doesn’t have his kit. With that, he could have the damn thing open in just a few seconds. But he jiggles the door again and peeks at the crack in the jamb. Oh, there might be just—

He fumbles for his pocket, for Finn’s knife. It’s small and slim and it just might work. It opens with a click and, lip between his teeth, Poe jimmies the blade into the tight space. A few twists, push and wrench. Where is the—Ah! There it is. Poe wrestles the release pin down and pops the lock. And just like that, the door swings open.

When he peeks in the back room, it’s empty. It’s more of a hallway really, with doors lining the opposite wall. Good news? The doors have windows. Bad news? The doors have windows. He puffs a loose curl out of his face and gets back to a stoop. Definitely a downside to these daytime heists. His back aches a bit; not as young as he once was. But he makes his way down the hall.

First door: an office. Not Ren’s office but one still. Someone’s scribbling away at a stack of papers. Next door: another office. This one empty, the front door open. Recently vacated. Third door looks to be storage but just empty boxes and cleaning supplies. _Finally_ , the fourth looks to have what he needs. Filing cabinets, wall to wall. There’s no signage on the door to demarcate what it is but Poe’s got a good/bad feeling about it. Just a couple problems. One: there’s a single door in and out. If he gets in there, there’s only one way out. Two, and more pressing: someone else is in there. Damn, is that Hux? Poe squints.

Oh fuck, three problems—it _is_ Hux and he’s turning around. Headed right out the door, right into Poe who’s got nowhere to hide.

—

“What the fuck else was supposed to happen? We made a deal, Ren.”

“Oh no, 2187. Oh no no no, this wasn’t the _deal_. There never was going to be a deal.”

Finn’s stomach drops out and he shifts, fingers tight on his pistol. Ren glances down at his pockets then back up to his face. Absolutely unimpressed and totally lethal. Fuck. Does he know? Had he heard the tape? Can he see the gun? Sweat’s beading at his brow, Finn can feel it. But he still hasn’t gotten the exact words. And he has to. He tries again.

“You mean to tell me you hired to have Poe Dameron killed and planned to fuck over the guy who did it?”

There’s a long, long silence. Ren looks like he’s debating dinner options. What does he want for a main course: an answer? Or Finn? A bead of sweat trails down the center of his back; Ren stares at him, ready to eat him alive.

“I did,” Ren finally, _finally_ admits. “But I hired the wrong kind of hit man.” Finn frowns. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, I _hired_ you to kill him. Not to fuck him, 2187.”

“No one’s been fuckin’ anyone,” Finn grouses, trying desperately to keep his composure. “I’ve been _trying_ to figure his habits. Get a feel for the guy so I don’t get fucking caught. You know, caught? As in go to jail? That would end real bad for you if they started askin’ questions, don’t you think?”

He’s rambling. Christ he’s rambling but it’s better to keep his mouth moving so his hands don’t fidget.

“So, you mean to say…that you _weren’t_ wasting time watching him and doing nothing.” Finn swallows. Ren narrows his eyes. “You weren’t…flirting with Dameron. At the bar. Playing pool over a few beers.”

Finn’s stomach drops out all the way to the floor. Eyes widen just the tiniest bit but it’s enough. Ren’s smile grows that much wider. He knows. Fuck, he knows.

“That you didn’t take him home and think that you’d _cross me?”_

Ren’s voice raises to a terrible volume at the end. He bangs the desk with both fists, sends papers flying and cups shatters to the floor. Finn flinches.

“And that you didn’t _save him_ when my men came to find him?!”

Shit, shit shit shit.

Ren jerks to his feet. Reaches for something in his desk. Oh fuck—

Before Finn can think, he acts. He plows forward, grabs the bottom of the desk and with all the strength he has, flips that bitch and runs for the door. There’s crashing, Ren’s screaming after him. Then suddenly there’s two shots, violently loud in the small space. One hits the door. Finn veers. The other hits the glass. Cracks it. Finn glances back over his shoulder, Ren’s staggering to his feet from under his desk. He tries the handle. Locked.

Ren knew.

Goddamn it.

“Traitor!!”

Another shot, and Finn throws himself through the window. Glass shatters around him, cuts into his exposed skin. One on his cheek. His neck. A piece through his jeans, stinging. Christ, he even lands on his bad arm and it pulls a shout out of him. Ren rages after him, firing again and again as his staff start to scream and scatter. Finn doesn’t have the wherewithal to fire back. He scrambles through the glass, slipping on shards. More shots splinter through the walls around him. He weaves left, right, any direction. Ren fires after him, barely missing. But Finn’s far enough ahead. The front door’s within reach. He slams into it full force, and takes off sprinting down the street.

—

Hux thumbs through a book. Account book! Opens the door—

Ah hell.

Poe pounces. From his crouch, he dashes forward, muffling Hux’s surprised shout and shoving him back through the doorway. The scrawny accountant scrabbles at him. Slippery bastard. Poe tries to keep a hold on him. The book falls, Hux yanks at his hair.

“Ah! goddamn!”

Fucking dirty fighter. Hux tries to knee him. When Poe dodges, the accountant darts away. Poe scrambles for his gun. Hux gets a hand on the door—

“Stop!” Poe hisses.

The hammer clicks back on his pistol and Hux freezes.

“Close the door,” Poe warns, tight and low. Damn. Damn damn _damn_. This was not how this was supposed to go. “Turn around.”

Hux turns slowly, raising his hands as he does. There’s that look of perpetual disdain, though some surprise is mired there.

“What are you doing here?” Hux grouses. “Have you lost your mind?”

Poe levels the pistol at him and Hux jerks back. “I need the books.”

Hux squints. “Why?”

“Why?!” Poe balks. “Why the hell you care? I need Ren’s fucking books and I need the ones that are gonna send him to prison and you’re gonna give ‘em to me.”

Hux considers that, like he has the fucking time to do it, and Poe actually kind of wants to shoot him. Then, the accountant drops his hands and says, “Fine.”

Huh. Well.

Hux starts for the filing cabinets and Poe flinches. Christ, he really does almost shoot him. That would’ve been _bad_. But the look Hux gives him makes the guilt recede a bit.

“You fuck me over, you can kiss that kneecap goodbye, pal.”

He’s not sure how much he means it but it sort of has the desired effect. Hux snorts, fiddling through the books in the filing cabinets and pulling out a select few. All of them have a very important looking stamp that Poe can’t quite make out, slapping heavy on the thin metal when Hux tosses them.

“I’ll give you the right ones. I shouldn’t say trust me but trust me.”

“Why?”

Hux turns to him, all the apparent files in hand. “You’re not the only one with a debt, Dameron. I need Kylo Ren to lose.” He shoves the books at Poe and heads for the door. “Get rid of him.”

He leaves. And Poe’s absolutely flabbergasted. Well what the fucking luck. Finn’s good luck. He shoves the books into his bag, grumbling to himself,

“I’m having that man kiss me every goddamn day.”

A few pops. Poe’s head shoots up. Some glass shatters.

Ah. The distraction.

He zips the bag.

Time to go.

—

Finn’s lungs burn, legs tired already. But he runs as fast as he can to the meeting point, trying his best to dodge people on the sidewalk. Throwing apologies over his shoulder. Just a few blocks. Hopefully Poe’s there. Surely, surely. He rounds the corner, flies into the parking garage. His bike’s on the bottom level and—oh, thank god.

“Finn!”

Poe’s already on it. Engine’s running. He squashes himself in tight to Poe’s back.

“Go! Go go go, we gotta go!” There’s something hard in his backpack. “You got ‘em?”

Poe grins at him over his shoulder. That’s as good an answer as any and Poe burns rubber out into the street, headed out and away from the office. Finn just hopes they were fast enough. If he knows Ren, then—

“Shit.”

Oh no.

Finn looks back over his shoulder the same instant Poe says,

“We got company!”

Kylo Ren is after them himself, weaving through traffic in his very expensive, very _fast_ car. Right behind. Finn can just see the death glare on Ren’s face and it’s enough to make all the hair on his body stand up.

“That man’s gonna fucking kill us!” he shouts over the wind.

“Not if I can help it!”

Poe kicks up a gear, throttles hard. Darts across two lanes of traffic to give them a little separation. Pushes as hard as he can up the street. But midday traffic. They have the advantage, sure, but it’s gonna be hell to try to navigate all that. A second’s warning is all he gets, just a shout, and Finn instinctively grabs tight around Poe’s waist. The mechanic cuts left, then left again. Passing through spaces so close Finn swears he can feel the metal brush his knees. They’re moving up! Poe manages to put almosttwo blocks of distance between them. Finn could almost crow with joy. But there’s a crash behind. Screams. Finn chances a glance back and—

Kylo Ren is driving up the damn sidewalk. Metal screeches on metal as Ren sideswipes a lamppost and suddenly there’s gunfire. Again.

“What the fuck is he _doing_?” Poe cries.

Apparently, Ren doesn’t give a damn about opening fire in broad daylight. And that means he’s absolutely pissed. Bullets ping off of cars around them, more screaming. Finn fumbles for his gun but as soon as he pulls it free, Poe shouts,

“Hang on!”

and he loses the damn thing in the force of redirection. A jerk, Poe turns left into the next street, as far away from Ren as he can get. The bike heaves, almost feels like it’s going to spill over. Finn tries to focus, leans as Poe leans. Together they just manage to keep it upright. More shots pepper behind, Poe throws them into stalled traffic, going up the street the wrong way. Incredulous faces zip by as they gun past. Weave through traffic to the right, to the next turn.

One more squealing swerve, and the gunfire fades. Swallowed up by buildings and the flow of traffic moving away. Poe gets on the straightaway and slips right in. Maybe speeding a little but not enough to draw attention. Leaving the wreck of streets they left in their wake. It’s when Poe merges onto a new freeway that Finn really realizes. He holds tight to Poe’s back and feels the deep sigh of relief when they both realize: that’s it.

They made it.

In no time flat, Poe has them right to Leia’s doorstep. Well, back doorsteps. Poe cuts into an alley and kills the engine. Finn doesn’t even get off the bike. He slides up to the handlebars as Poe slides off, pounding on the door and almost dancing foot to foot until Leia answers. He all but throws the books at her when she finally answers.

“I thought when I said get me evidence, it was implied you didn’t make a bigger mess,” is the first thing she says when she sees them.

“It’s not our fault!” Poe protests. “He chased us up the goddamn street.” Leia glares at his profanity and he rubs the back of his head. “Sorry. But seriously. Chased us up the street.”

Leia just shakes her head, taking the backpack from Poe’s proffered hand. “Glad to see you’re all right, at least,” she says, more gentle this time. “Did you get the tape?”

Oh! Finn had almost forgotten the tape. Poe and Leia look back at him and he scrambles to pull it out of his jacket. It’s been running this whole time. He clicks it off. The mechanic snags it from him. When Leia unzips the backpack, he drops it right in.

“Just—just so you know,” Finn calls, “I couldn’t make it clean. He admitted to the hit but he knew. About me, and Poe. And he made it pretty clear who was supposed to kill him.”

Leia pins him with an intense stare. It’s not one he’s seen often, but he remembers Han telling stories about her and yeah, he can definitely see what the old man meant when he said Leia could skin you alive. But he holds steady and after a moment, her stare softens.

“If I find what I need in the book, I won’t use it. How about that?”

A sudden weight lifts from his shoulders. Finn nods.

“But,” she warns, “I’ll use it if I have to. Whatever you said kid, I’ll make sure you’ll be ok. I promise.”

Finn nods again. That’s enough of a promise for him.

“Now look, I want you two to go hole up somewhere and don’t come out for a month. I want you somewhere safe in case I need you as witnesses. And because I don’t want my son to use his temper and take you out. Get me?”

Finn swallows hard but Poe nods. “Speaking of witnesses, you might find an employee by the name of Hux pretty useful.”

Leia raises and eyebrow, as does Finn, but when Poe doesn’t say anything more, Leia waves a gracious hand at them. Finn takes that to be a dismissal and kicks the bike back to life.

“You two be careful!” she calls as the mechanic slides back on.

“Promise!” Poe yells.

Then Finn shifts into gear. They’re off again, and he knows just where he wants to go.

In a roundabout sort of way, Finn takes them home. Just in case anyone would be following. Poe throws open the garage and, after a quick check, everything seems to be exactly where they left it. Finn finishes locking the house back up, Poe sauntering into the living room after him. Wow, ok. Now that all the excitement’s died down, exhaustion sets in heavy. Poe looks about the same. All as one, they flop down on Finn’s couch together. Knee to knee, hip to hip. Pressed together in a line that’s slowly going from solid to liquid as they melt together in relief. Finn turns to say something, he’s not sure exactly what, he just wants to say something. But when he turns, Poe’s already staring at him, a smile breaking out over his face.

Then all at once, Poe’s pushing into his lap. Finn’s dragging him in, by the back of his neck, a fist in his hair. Throwing himself into a molten, ragged kiss that burns all the way to his bones with the relief of it. Poe’s tongue slides hot, demanding against his bottom lip and when he opens, Poe groans into his mouth.

“Christ,” Finn pulls back with a gasp. “Is that what freedom tastes like?”

Poe bursts out laughing. Eyes twinkling, curls bouncing in a way that makes him look absolutely unreal. But he is real. He’s here, in Finn’s lap even. Gorgeous and present and they’re free. With so much to look forward to.

“I guess it is,” Poe chuckles.

“Well I like it. I want more of it even. Just all of it. Gimme all of it.”

Poe obliges, grinning into another breathtaking kiss. “So what’re you gonna do with all that freedom?”

“I think I’ll be a barber,” Finn pants. “A safe, reasonable barber. Pretty good with knives, I think I’d be good at it—”

Poe kisses his neck. “You would be.”

“I’ll cut lines so sharp I have customers for miles. Tell bullshit stories all day that are totally true and no one believes.”

Poe drags him over, kisses him with just an edge of frantic energy. “I didn’t know safe could be so good.”

Finn laughs and he knows.

He knows, they’ll be all right.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the smut is, so if you're not a fan of that you can skip this chapter with nothing really lost
> 
> absolutely dedicated to TheCarrot and all the bullshit she's put up with from me <3

Epilogue—

_Six Months Later_

It’s raining outside. Just a soft autumn rain, loud enough to patter at the windows but gentle enough not to be of worry. Poe’s brought the lights down low. A yellow lamp on the table behind. They’d started upright, telling stories, radio on quiet in the background. But it’s chilly enough he had to bring out a blanket and slowly but surely vertical became horizontal. Poe’s summer blood cools too easy after August but with the way he’s laid, head pillowed at the crux of Finn’s shoulder…Finn’s not going to complain about it. Every part of him is warm and relaxed. Christ, he feels like he’s in a bowl of syrup. Even his eyelids are toasted and heavy. This might be the first time in his whole life he’s felt this good. Well, minus a few notable exceptions. The day Ren went to prison was definitely up on the list. Taking Poe home for real, for good was probably another. God, if he thinks about it long enough he’s definitely going to get maudlin. Poe’s still talking softly, telling a story about his shop, but Finn’s so caught up in the way the shadows lay on his cheek that he hasn’t really been listening.

“You’re thinkin’ awful hard up there,” Poe murmurs. One of his hands squeezes Finn’s side. “You hear a word I said?”

Finn scoffs and Poe bounces on his chest. Might as well be honest. “Not really.”

The mechanic smirks up at him, and that hand on his side slides up into his shirt. Not quite teasing but there’s a glint in his eye that Finn’s coming to recognize. “Well what do I gotta do to get your attention huh?”

Finn sighs soft out his nose, bends and kisses the crown of Poe’s curls. “You got it sweetheart, what more you want?”

Poe shuffles next to him so they’re face to face. Careful to keep the blanket in place, throwing a leg between his thighs with an enticing pressure. There’s a little line on his brow though, and Finn wants to kiss that away too.

So he does.

And that seems to satisfy. Poe blinks at him slow, a smile spreading over his face like a secret.

“You sure I can’t get…a little more?”

Not for the first time, Finn smiles back. Ready to give him, “Whatever you want.”

That should be all the invitation Poe needs. But just like their evening, he keeps everything wonderfully slow. Poe cranes up to meet him, kisses hot and liquid along the line of his jaw. He shifts and all of Poe’s weight realigns along Finn’s side, over his thigh.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say, isn’t it?” Poe asks.

“Not anymore than half the stupid shit we’ve done.”

Poe chuckles darkly, seeming to like the spark. “Do you mean it?”

His first instinct is to pull Poe the rest of the way down and _show_ him how much he means it. He’ll never get tired of doing it that way but maybe this time he can just use words. So he tries them.

“Yeah.” His stubble scrapes a low gasp out of Finn’s throat as his hands settle at Poe’s hips. Something hot and molten bubbles in his chest and makes him say, “I do.”

Poe pulls back from his neck, big pretty eyes wide with surprise. Now that Finn thinks about it, that might be the first time he’s said it out loud. His heart trips a little, apprehensive. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it quite like that. It sounds an awful lot like—

“Oh, I love that,” Poe sighs into him. Bearing back down before Finn can get too deep in his own head. “I think I might want you to say that every day.”

He’s trying to think of something smart to say back, but Poe sits up. Takes Finn’s hands from his waist, gently kissing the inside of each wrist. So tender it steals all the words from his mouth and the air from his lungs.

“Let me make it worth it then, huh?”

_You’re always worth it_ , _whatever it is_ , is what he wants to say. But Poe takes a wrist in each hand and guides both of them back. Trapping his hands against the arm of the couch. Maybe he looks a little unsure because Poe smiles sweetly and leans, pressing their lips together in a slow slide that stokes the heat building between his thighs. Poe’s already half-hard against him but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. His tongue dips into Finn’s mouth and thoughts fizzle out. Poe’s teeth set in his bottom lip and his heart trips again. All he can do is suck in a gasp through his nose, following the pace Poe sets.

It’s so easy to follow the lead from there. Easy to rut against him, lazy but growing sharp. He’s pinned. About as pinned as he could be without actually being restrained and he revels in it. The heavy, reassuring weight. Poe’s heat sinking into him under the blanket. Eventually—he’s not sure when, it feels like Poe kisses him forever—the mechanic trails back to his throat and adjusts his grip. He holds Finn’s hands with one of his own and the other pushes between Finn’s arm and neck, almost pushing his throat into Poe’s teeth.

“Did I ever tell you,” Poe asks between electric kisses, “what I thought the first time I saw you?”

“N—” Finn gasps when Poe’s hand sneaks back under his shirt. His fingers grew a little cold out in the open and they steal what breath he had left as they press against his ribs. “No.”

“It’s terrible,” Poe chuckles into his skin. He bites; Finn bucks. “Absolutely awful.”

It doesn’t matter what it was, Finn’s rapidly losing the ability to think straight. Poe’s hand wanders low again. This time dipping below the waistband of his loose pants. Twisting his wrist to get a grip right where Finn wants him. As soon as Poe touches him, he moans. He can’t help it. Everything still feels warm and slow but that—oh, _that_ feels electric. Volatile. Poe finally releases his wrists, pushing up his sleep shirt with a bit of frantic energy. He presses kisses in the center of Finn’s chest, his solar plexus. Up to each nipple and around before biting into those and drawing nonsense out of Finn’s mouth.

Hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, which is a first. He scrabbles at Poe’s shirt, then slides under it. Comes back out and tangles in Poe’s hair. Then Poe starts moving _his_ hand and Finn groans. Low in his throat, deep enough to feel it in his teeth. The slide of it’s a little dry, a little biting, just this side of too much and he’s drowning in it. Poe seems to sense it, licks his palm in one wet swipe before diving back. Won’t be drowning for long though. He grinds into Poe’s thigh, less lazy, more desperate, and now Poe’s the one murmuring nonsense.

“Look at you—”

_Heat_. Hot, everything’s so hot, burning.

“I can’t even—”

_Pressure_. In his legs, his stomach. All along the length of his spine.

“Finn.” He gasps. “Look at me.”

Finn’s eyes flutter open—god, when did they close? Everything around him stills, except the panting breaths he didn’t know he was taking. He’s looking. Every muscle is straining, hips jerking, cock aching. God, he’s looking.

Poe holds him there. Just for a moment. He could beg, sure he could, but he promised. _Whatever you want_. Poe smiles, something soft and unguarded in his eyes. Then he leans again, kissing his way up from Finn’s stomach. Over his heart. Into lingering bites that sting in his blood. Poe sucks the lobe of his ear between his teeth, breath hot and shivering down his spine. He pulls, bites as he jerks Finn’s cock. He can’t take it, that’s it, there’s nothing left—

Then,

“Come on, Finn,” Poe says softly. Finn groans. “Come on, come for me.”

Finn nods, jerks, shouts, all of this and begging for more. Fire and pressure and christ he can’t _breathe_ , Poe’s taken him too far. Finn clutches at Poe’s shoulders, leans, buries his face in Poe’s neck, shakes apart until the end. And Poe coaxes him through every movement, every twitch. Murmuring soft nothings, petting at him as Finn struggles to get to his breath back. Until the mechanic’s gentle kisses pull him back down and he can relax his grip.

“Wow,” he pants. Throws his head back into the couch pillows. “ _Wow_. Christ, I love you.”

Poe’s head shoots up and _oops_.

“You love me?”

All of that warmth, all that pleasant gooey afterglow freezes solid in his bones. Oh, he hadn’t meant to say that. But with the way Poe’s looking at him now, maybe this time he can just use words. Maybe…maybe it’s ok to say them out loud. They’ve been hiding in his heart long enough.

So he tries them.

“Yeah,” he gulps. Something tender and fragile blooms in his chest and makes him say, “I do.”

For one terrifying moment, he’s afraid it’s too far. Then Poe breaks out in a heartbreakingly soft smile and he bends, kissing Finn so gently he’s afraid he’ll shatter. Poe pulls back, eyes not quite open. Licks his lip like he can still taste Finn there.

“I love you too.” Poe looks down at him from under his lashes, trails a finger from his not-sticky hand down Finn’s cheek. “The first time I saw you I thought you looked like Christmas morning. And I think I’ve been in love ever since.”

Oh that’s _awful_. Awful and wonderful. It’s so cheesy. God, he’ll absolutely be giving Poe shit about it later. The sap. But for now, all he can do is grin. So much his face aches. That wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d thought it would be. And, hilariously, he thinks that’s not the only thing that’s hard. Poe’s still straddled above him. Cheeks flushed pink in the dim light. Dick a hard hot line against his hip. He grins. Slips a hand over the curve of Poe’s ass. Drags him nice and flush, already eager for another round.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

With the way Poe’s mouth falls open, Finn would say that’s a yes.

* * *

_Five or Six Years Later_

_Miami, FL_

"Let me just stop you there. This is absolutely ridiculous."

"Sir, we're just here to make an inquiry."

Finn purses his lips to keep from laughing.

"My ass. Whatever it is you think, we haven't done it."

"Sir, it's not—"

"You're damn right it's not. Comin' in here with all this shit. How dare you."

He props a boot on his knee. Poe's piping hot, swinging a finger in two faces at least three inches higher than his. Finn can almost see the steam coming out his ears and these goddamn agents have no idea what they're in for.

_This should be good_.

"Mr. Dameron, we'd just like—"

"Tell you what I'd like. I'd like you—" Poe pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. “—to get the fuck outta my husband's shop." Slaps a business card on the table. "And you have any questions you can give her a call."

The lead agent picks up the card, both of their faces pale, and Finn can't hold in that snort anymore.

"Uh, sure—sure thing Mr. Dameron, sorry for the intrusion." The pair of them are already backing out the door. It jingles merrily as it smacks their asses on the way. "Have a nice day."

When the door swings closed again, Finn eases smoothly out of the barber seat Poe'd just vacated. He squeezes Poe's shoulders, murmuring close to his ear but not so close that Poe’s shaving cream trades faces.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Poe snorts. “ _You’re_ ridiculous. How many times they been in the shop I didn’t know about?”

“Mm once or twice, probably.” He steers Poe back to the barber chair, who goes easy enough despite his ire. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Poe sighs gustily but leans his head back when Finn pushes his chin. “You gotta kick them out before they even get started or they’ll be comin’ out the wordwork before you know it,” he grouses. “You’re too easy, sweetheart.”

Finn just lifts an eyebrow and wordlessly passes his razor over the strop a few times until Poe looks up, properly chagrinned.

“Ok, so maybe you’re not easy.”

“No,” Finn agrees. “I’m just a reasonable man. And the less attention we call to ourselves, the easier life will be.”

Poe looks like he’s swallowed a lemon but he lets the point die. Finn’s right, and he knows it.

“You gonna let me finish?” Finn stands over him, looks down. Trying to keep the heat out of his eyes for the moment. “You don’t wanna be late, do you?”

If it were any other appointment, Poe would probably throw caution to the wind and just be late. Today’s appointment is another story. Kylo Ren’s trying for an appeal, calling them back into the bullshit again. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. Expanding the business to Poe’s hometown in Miami apparently hadn’t put enough distance between them and the past. But every time they sit down to hash it over again, their stories are rock solid and no connection has been made—or ever will be— between Finn, Poe, and Ren’s missing account books that so mysteriously showed up at Leia’s office. So Poe acquiesces. Tilts his head back again, closing his eyes and baring his throat. It shouldn’t get Finn as hot under the collar as it does but, well, considering their history—

He smiles fondly and finishes the job, shaving Poe clean. Trimming his sideburns, inspecting his lines. Satisfied. Clean as always. There’ll be time for fun later. Poe rubs in his favorite aftershave—eucalyptus, cedar—and Finn shrugs back into his coat. He goes to hand Poe his but gets caught up in the slack in Poe’s jaw.

“Have I seen that suit before?”

“It’s new,” he says, only preening a bit as Poe sweeps him from head to toe. “Don’t get too many ideas. Ready for the last one?”

Poe sighs one more time before he buttons his suit jacket. “Yeah, let’s get it over with.”

One more deadline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed! and i'd love to know what you thought
> 
> thank you again for reading

**Author's Note:**

> co-creator credit to TheCarrot for so many wonderful ideas i ended up using!  
> my most serious, heartfelt thanks to Gmariam and Sapphistication for their feedback on this story. To Youngnbloody for the prompt (and your patience friend!)
> 
> and of course to you, thanks for reading


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